


One Thousand and One Words

by lapinchatain



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dirty Talk, Drabble Collection, Drunk Sex, Dubious Morality, F/M, Fryecest - Freeform, Multiple Orgasms, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reunion Sex, SORRY FOR MY ENGLISH, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Incest, The author doesn't know how to tell a story, Threesome - F/M/M, Twincest, also I don't know how to use articles correctly remember that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-07 13:40:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 32,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14082141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lapinchatain/pseuds/lapinchatain
Summary: Fryecest one-shots collectionFrye twins are my little cinnamon rolls ヾ(≧∇≦*)ゝSlow but continuous update because I love them so much





	1. Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [一千零一字](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/383288) by lapinchatain. 



> For those who want straight smut, which I understand is 100% of the population, just check the following chapters to save your time:
> 
> A bit in 11 and 12  
> 13  
> A bit in 14  
> 17  
> 19 (threesome)  
> 4
> 
> For an E-rated work, I'm incredibly and shamelessly inefficient if not a downright fraud, but you know what suck it up because that's who I am as a person  
> Also, bear in mind that I.CAN'T.WRITE.IN.ENGLISH. so it's going to be the most ridiculous smut you'll ever gonna read. Congrats, you're truly desperate.
> 
> (Wait you know that was a joke right)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I have to have all space and all time participate in my emotion, in my mortal love, so that the edge of its mortality is taken off, thus helping me to fight the utter degradation, ridicule, and horror of having developed an infinity of sensation and thought within a finite existence.”
> 
> \- Speak, memory  
> Vladimir Nabokov

His hand trembled slightly, and a sooty trace protruded from the thick, dark lines of the pencil on the paper that he was drawing. He paused and frowned, erasing that length with the eraser, brushing the crumbles off the surface of his sketchbook.

The train trembles too much, Jacob thought, sometimes he had a hard time falling asleep, but shouldn’t people their age as well revel in drinks, chatters and laughter out in the pubs throughout the night? Only people like his sister would spend their energy on a heap of books, but of course he knew her, knew how sometimes how she would push him on the chest down onto the couch, straddle him on his laps and kiss him on the lips with such passion, her desire so fierce and incandescent that he was amazed at her candor and intimacy with him, at his privilege of being the only one that knew her so thoroughly and completely, a bliss almost too much to bear. He’d come back to the train after a night-long revelry in the small hours of the morning, reeking of alcohol, tobacco and filthy, sweaty flesh of the crowds, while Evie had just got up, sitting in front of her mirror, braiding her hair into impeccable plaits, shooting him a reproaching look sideways and said in a cold, contemptuous tone, look at yourself, Jacob. As drunk as a lord, aren’t you ashamed of yourself? Of course, he remembered her eyes, slightly narrowed in threat and anger, authoritative and stern. His hand flicked swiftly, and the outlines of her eyes appeared under his pencil, followed by that of her lips and nose bridge, the unshaped pencil point rustling on the rough surface of the paper, as if he could still hear her scoffing. He leaned on the doorframe and put on a mischievous snicker, so you’re the one lecturing me now, forgot how you pushed me onto the bed yesterday?

He liked the effect of his words on her, as he took great pleasure in irritating and crossing her on every possible occasion, those beautiful blue eyes blazing aflame in anger, shame and hidden lust, her cheeks so red all over as if dripping with blood. He wanted to absorb the color of the cloudless sky, the color of the sea under dazzling sunlight and pour it all unabashedly into her eyes in his drawings, the same eyes that would gaze up into his on raining winter mornings when she had just lit up the fire in her carriage, those eyes between his arms that reflected the golden flickering firelight, covered in a thin layer of moisture, the lust in her eyes so deep that it seemed a bottomless abyss, her body and soul enslaved by desire, by her longing for him, by her desperate need of him, and by merely sketching out those wanton and lustful eyes he’d feel a primal drive racing through his veins.

He was once wounded on the back of his hand, the wound cracked open during his drawing her eyes, the blood seeping out of it. He took some of his blood with his pinky finger and smeared it onto her lips in his drawing, and those eyes looked deeply and wordlessly into his own from the paper, as if alive, as if telling him about her longing for him, about her musings and confusions, about his perpetual curiosity about and fascination with her. He turned this page over and started off with another pair of her eyes, a pair of smiling eyes, her black long eyes lashes, the barely visible caruncles, the iris, the soft curves of her eyelids, the eye corners that slanted slightly upwards. That’s the eyes he’d see when she smiled at some joke or anecdote he recounted, the blue as pure as forget-me-not, and there was a crystal light glowing and flowing out of those narrowed smiling eyes, like the music of violin streaming out of the garden on a warm spring night. His heart would flutter and race in his chest when he saw those eyes, and he would unconsciously straighten up his back like a proud little boy. She’d say, how silly of you, my dear brother, her tone nonetheless infused with motherly indulgence and affection. On hearing those words, he’d be gripped by an urge to cry, perhaps because their mother never got a chance of stroking their hair and pressing a kiss onto their foreheads, and here she was, in the form of his flesh and blood, his other half.

He never showed Evie his sketchbook before she left for India, thinking that she’d never have guessed that he knew drawing, much less that his sketchbook would be replete with images of her eyes that spoke to him in silence, mocking him, blaming him, comforting him, soothing him. There was a time when he passed by an exhibition held in a magnificent hall with its windows open, and the fleeting glimpse didn’t leave on him more impression than rows of portraits hung on the wall in the shadow, but those blurred faces and eyes didn’t stop haunting him for a long time, the eyes of souls long gone staring out into the inquisitive eyes of irrelevant strangers who came after months, years, decades and centuries to look at their smiling or contemplative faces, who would conjure up the sadness and happiness, hopes and disappointments, joy and sorrow, the heartbreaking and euphoric moments of their faded lives. How lonely and forlorn it was, to be on either side of the frame, smiling wordlessly at each other, separated by the irredeemable distance of space and time. Her, too; her beautiful eyes gazed out at him from under his pencil, waiting for him forever on that paper, despite the destructive, annihilating passage of time that had brought her away from him and would bring them both away from this life, that would sweep away entire worlds and devour everything until there was only the eternal void left, but there in his sketchbook, in his reminiscence of her, she would stand up to time, triumph over time, and there she would always be, everlasting.

He put the sketchbook back under the couch, sitting in silence as the crackling sounds of the logs in the fireplace in the adjacent carriage filled the empty space. He didn’t know whether the fireplace in Kashmir would remind her of the misty surface of the Thames, whether she would think of him on silent nights. His chest swelled with that familiar, stifling pain, and he thought, if only she were here by his side, if only he could take her into his arms and kiss those eyes of hers, he’d finally be content again, he’d close his eyes and think of her eyes in his drawings, smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One theme I want to explore in this chapter is the relationship between time, death, love and art. As mortals we live in a constant anxiety over our finitude, and the only things that can alleviate this existential anxiety are love and art, which form a dynamic power play with time.


	2. Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Depression and suicide. Please don't proceed if you feel uncomfortable with the subject.

The photo on the piano was framed in black, Evie smiling at the camera, Jacob raising his arms behind her, grimacing. There was an endless ocean behind them both, a blend of hazy blue and white, glittering and transparent under the sunlight like the bottom of a glass bottle. “That’s my sister, now living in India,” that was what he would say when they had visitors. His wife wanted to put a photo of Emmett on the piano too when Emmett was born, but he didn’t let her, as he felt as if Evie could walk in at any moment, sit down before the piano and play a familiar song of his, and that she would be a bit puzzled at the sight of Emmett’s photo, as if she didn’t belong here anymore. Evie was in somewhere far, far away now, so far that he wouldn’t even think of her most of the time, but every time he did, there was that blurred yet overwhelming pain, a grief so deep and intense that his heart felt like dragged, torn and ripped open by an invisible knife, that his chest would swell and his throat tighten, but he thought, it’s alright, it’s alright now, he’d keep going, he had to.

Evie would always wear glasses when she studied, something that fascinated and intrigued Jacob ever since they were children. He would take her glasses out and put them on when she wasn’t around, but always had to take them off immediately for the dizziness and nausea that they inflicted on him. She had a pair of beautiful frameless glasses, and she looked a bit different with them, even more serious and earnest than usual. He remembered when they were in middle school, sometimes he’d peek at her in the front seat of the classroom, when she looked at the blackboard and then lowered her head to take notes, her long black lashes fluttering on her profile, and he’d always dart his eyes away when she turned her head around, pretending that he wasn’t looking at her. When they were in university, sometimes on weekends, she’d come by bus to see him, they’d go out for dinner, and she’d open her bag, find her glasses case, open it and put on her glasses to read the menu, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Sometimes she’d catch his look and just smile, while he felt somehow embarrassed, like a theft caught in the act, his heart racing a bit in his chest, but he would pretend that nothing had happened. Now whenever Jacob thought of her glasses, as of anything that could remind him of her, he could feel that something deep down, something long dead, was still shuddering, suffering and his tears would rush down in the blink of an eye, and he knew that this feeling would always be haunting him until his dying days.

That Jacob remembered her glasses so well was because the winter when their father passed away, she broke her glasses but didn’t send them away for repair, something that finally caught his attention. He remembered that day, he went to the library and found her studying earnestly with notes and books piled high on her desk, as she had told him that she’d soon apply for FP year one and that she had to dedicate all her time and energy to preparing for the exams. He was standing by the door, watching her, but suddenly sensed that something was wrong, and when she stood up and walked over to him he realized that she was walking in a slightly unsteady and swinging manner, but she wouldn’t let him help her, nor did she even speak to him. They quarreled over a random trifle on the dinner table, Evie took her glass on the desk and smashed it on the ground, the broken shards splashing all over the floor, and everyone in the restaurant turned their head around to look at them. Jacob stared at her in disbelieving shock, as she stood up, took her bag and walked away, without a backward glance.

They didn’t speak to each other after that, and it was only through one of their mutual friends that Jacob heard of the outstanding result of Evie’s FP exams, which, combined with her excellent undergrad grades, successfully secured her an internship at a hospital in London. A few months later, she called him at two o’clock in the morning and pleaded with him to come, and the instant he heard her voice, he knew that something was wrong, terribly wrong and it went wrong a long time ago, and that he had been stupidly oblivious to it. When he pushed the bathroom door open he found Evie half lying on the ground, empty gin bottles scattered all over, she said, Jacob, I’m so scared, because I’ve wanted to kill myself all the time, but I don’t want to die. He kneeled down beside her and took her in his arms, kissed her forehead and said, over and over again, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, his tears drenching her hair.

Her psychiatrist told Jacob that Evie was a rare case, that she seemed almost perfectly fine as proved by her outstanding professional and social performance, probably the reason why she’d been putting off seeking help until then. Except that she wasn’t fine, of course she was not, how could she be if she had clinical depression. Jacob sat in the neat and tidy office of the therapist’s, waiting for him to raise all sorts of questions, how’s your family relationship? How’s the relationship between your parents? How’s your relationship? He was prepared to tell him everything, he really was, if it was what it took to make her alright again, he’d tell him how conscientious and dedicated Evie was in fulfilling all her obligations, something he deeply admired her for but hadn’t been ready to admit, tell him about the immoral carnal relationship between them since they were adolescents, how she treated it with a deep sense of guilt and shame, tell him how huge an impact the death of their father had on her, tell him how fierce the competition was at her med school, and how hard she tried all the time. But the therapist didn’t ask him anything in the end. He never asked Evie what they talked about during their sessions. It simply didn’t matter anymore.

He took Evie to repair her glasses, she stood defensively a few meters away from him, frowning and clutching at her bag, telling him not to treat her like a retarded child, and that she could do well on her own. The quarrel got out of hand on their bus back, Evie told him to sod off, he stood up and then immediately sat down, taking her in his arms tightly with all his force. She cried and tried to fight him back, but he wouldn’t let her, until at last she slowly calmed down, her smudged eyeliner mingled with tears messy on her cheeks. He saw to it that she took the meds, she’d frown as she swallowed the pills down, and he would give her some Belgian chocolate he just bought for her, joking that antidepressants should also have chocolate flavor. She tried hard to squeeze out a smile, telling him, thank you. Sometimes if she felt a bit better, they would go out for a walk in the park, she would buy him marshmallow and ice cream and soda and insist on paying everything for him, then they would both sit side by side quietly on the bench, until she stood up to buy some bread to feed the ducks and squirrels. He read her stories of Peter Rabbit before bed that their father used to read to them when they were kids, her bright, beautiful eyes staring deeply at him, as if she was ruminating on something he couldn’t understand, her breath tranquil and steady, and after she fell asleep, he would lay down beside her and hold her in his arms, without letting go of her the whole night. Sometimes she wouldn’t want to get out of bed for an entire day, and he would call her from the supermarket, asking her what flavor of butter biscuit she wanted, orange and cranberries, ginger, cocoa or pistachio and almond? His Evie, who had always kept her room spotless and reproached him for leaving dirty footprints everywhere, ate the biscuits he bought for her on the bed in silence, leaving crumbs all over the sheet, and he would scoop her up and lay her on the couch in the living room, go back to the bedroom and change the bed sheet. Sometimes they’d also make love, but he dared not take any initiative anymore, until one day Evie cried her eyes out in the dim living room, saying that she knew that he didn’t want her anymore, that she was a total mess that no one ever would love, not even him, and that she hated him so much for making her ill in the first place. She said that if he didn’t reciprocate her, didn’t indulge her sick, twisted and disgusting desires, she wouldn’t hate him so much, wouldn’t be hating herself so much. Jacob held her in his arms and told her to stop, but she pulled away from him and told him not to touch her ever again, to disappear right from her sight, and that she would call the police right now and tell them that he tried to rape her. Jacob told her that he didn’t give a damn, that even though all the police from the whole city of London were now pointing their guns at him he wouldn’t leave her alone like that, his dearest sister, always cool-minded and tender, sometimes a bit headstrong and lofty in making sarcastic comments on his own mess of a life, his own flesh and blood, his deepest love and deepest pain, his sister that he could die for in a heartbeat. Exhausted from crying, Evie sat down against the wall, he sat down with her as well and held her shoulders, and she turned around to kiss him, with such passion, abandon, and frenzy, that she suddenly didn’t seem unwell at all. He was somehow hesitant and reluctant, but she said, it’s alright, she just wanted him, she only wanted him, she wanted him so much that she’d lose her mind and die right on the spot without him. They made love on the floor, and when she came, he whispered to her ear, over and over again, I love you, I love you, and I love you, and she cried on his shoulders, her tears intermingled with his sweat, slithering down his skin like a snake.

Sometimes Jacob thought, if he had behaved differently, if he had taken different actions, said different things, made different choices, whether everything would be different. Sometimes he told Evie, it was a good thing that she could cry in front of him, it meant that at least it wasn’t hopeless, that it would be hopeless if she pretended that everything was fine. Now with hindsight, when he thought of many things he said and many things he did at the time, he only wanted to punch himself back then right in the face, making himself realize what nonsense he was talking and what an arse he was. But no – there was no point in that anymore, now even if he knew all the truths of the whole world, it wouldn't make any difference anymore. As long as he was alive, he’d always be hurt and hurt others, trapped in an endless struggle amidst contradictory desires and emotions, every single one of them so real that it was almost frightening to be alive.

That photo, the photo on the piano – it was taken when they were on holiday to the seaside. Evie got up early that morning and had already got dressed when he woke up, standing quietly in front of the window and gazing out into the horizon, as if there was a world that he couldn’t see. They took a walk on the beach, Jacob stopped an old man strolling with his dog, hello, could you please take a photo of us? Thanks, yes, we come from London, just a weekend holiday, yes, the cod here is exquisite, I’d stay here even just for the sake of the cod. Thank you, have a nice day too. Evie walked on the beach barefoot, the icy-cold seawater flooding over the pale back of her feet, Jacob quickened his pace to catch up with her, she smiled at him, I like it here too. Do you think I should bring some dried cod to Clara the next week when I go back to the hospital? She’ll like it, I bet she will, that little girl. Poor girl, both of her parents died. She’d be delighted.

Jacob never knew whether Evie meant it when she said it, nor would he ever do. That day, at that moment, when he heard her say that, he was only relieved that she was still thinking about others, about going back to work, but of course Evie never asked for leave due to her illness, she insisted that work would do her more good than harm, that she’d at least have something to concentrate her mind on. They had dinner in a little restaurant, its panel painted in lovely blue and white, Evie told him when they went back to their room, I was checking the programme on TV tonight, there will be a movie I like very much, called The Youth, I’ve already watched it, do you want to watch it with me? It will be late though, I want to buy some fish and chips for the midnight snack, we can get up later tomorrow morning, right? We can wake up whenever we want. Jacob chuckled, who would have thought that my dear sister would also stay up late, then suddenly realized how wrong it was what he said, adding hurriedly that of course, no problem, I’ll go to the restaurant with you. Oh, you don’t trust me, do you? You think I’ve got Alzheimer’s? For god’s sake Jacob, at least believe I can find my way back, ok? It’s just fifteen minutes’ walk, not the end of the world. What sauce do you want?

He waited in his room for thirty minutes, a leaden knot in the pit of his stomach, his heartbeat racing up in his ribcage, pounding so loudly in his ears that he went almost deaf, so fast that he thought he'd drop dead. He called the police at the fortieth minute, rushed out to the beach, crying and shouting her name, Evie, Evie, where are you, Evie, Evie. Evie, Evie. He raced back and forth on the beach, his sounds desperate and helpless like an animal, the cold, dark night and seawater closing in around him like the eternity itself, so cold and lifeless and tight that he almost suffocated, he could feel his life slipping away from him, the void eating away at him, that there was only his hoarse gasp echoing in the air, nothing else even existed, not even the world itself. That split second, a realization dawned upon him – he remembered it so well, that very second – that she was gone, and there was nothing he could do to bring her back. Ever, ever, ever. Eternity had only one form, it was death, it was grief, it was his love for her, and she had dissolved into that eternity, taking one part of his life away with her, forever.

Over so many years, sometimes when Jacob woke up in the morning, he’d mistake the person lying beside him for Evie, and when reality came to his mind, he wished so much that he had died at that moment when she was still there with him, when she still existed, and he’d be so blissed out even if it meant his own death. Death was still something, something better than the nothingness she had become, and only death would liberate him from that sense of guilt and grief, of unspeakable regret. If, if only, he had seen it coming, if he had done something, anything that would have kept her, she’d still be here today, he’d still see her beautiful eyes, slightly narrowed when she smiled, smell the fragrant scent from her hair, feel the tenderness and warmth of her lips. He’d see her every year, she was right next to Father, of course, since Evie had always adored and venerated their father so much as to regard their relationship as a betrayal to Father. Evie, you’d blame me, I’ve made a bad decision again, haha. Evie, I haven’t thrown out the beer bottles I bought three months ago, Evie, I watched your favorite movies over and over again, I’d cry every time, why you didn’t wait to watch that movie with me that day? There are so many things we could have done together. If only you had waited for me. I’m sorry, I know it’s my fault, was it because of me that you left? He kept her glasses on the desk of his study, her photo on the piano, Emmett always asked him since he had learned to talk, who is that? She is your auntie Evie. Where is Auntie Evie? She’s in somewhere very far away from here. Will she come and see us? I hope so. Emmett, probably you can’t understand it yet, but I hope so, so much I hope.

And she was there, right in the photo frame on his piano, smiling at him, Jacob, I like it here too. Jacob, the seawater is so cold. He could still see her, hear her, and she was still alive, on him, through him, breathing the air he breathed, remembering the remembrances he had. He didn’t know whether she could also feel the pain he felt, he hoped not, but he knew she was still there waiting for him, till the day he’d go and find her, in that eternity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very personal chapter, and it is about grief, and regret. Eventually, it's about having everything and losing everything, as we all do and will do.


	3. Can you hear me?

“Billy Herrington is dead,” Ned said, “You heard of that?”

“He’s still very much alive in his porn,” Aaron said. He was Ned’s “business partner”, a guy with spotlessly shaved chin and a clean denim T-shirt, standing beside the counter in a somewhat awkward position. Ned wouldn’t mention too much his “business partners” in front of Jacob, but he knew this one. This bar was right next to the faculty of philosophy, whose hippie members, always standing by its front gate smoking weed in broad daylight engrossed in discussions revolving around Heidegger and Lacan with overpriced ecologic coffee in their hands, were the main source of Ned’s abundant income and consequently the reason why they were here tonight – this round was on Ned. Jacob didn’t have much use for the genre of the live concert tonight here, but he still accepted Ned’s invitation on Facebook the moment he received it, probably just to get away from the depressing cold-war atmosphere in his apartment.

“Don’t you think it smells pee here?”

“Means it’s popular.”

“I’ve never seen them clean the floor, not even once, over so many times when I closed it down.”

“I wouldn’t clean where Billy Herrington’s shot his films either,” Aaron mumbled to no one in particular. Ned burst into laughter. His sexuality had always been a mystery – Jacob once thought that maybe Ned was interested in him, but then felt guilty about it for some reason.

“A bit uptight today, aren’t you?” Ned suddenly turned to Jacob and asked him, who darted his eyes away and sipped his beer with feigned casualness. They were standing at the end of the counter, surrounded by a flashing décor of suburb graffiti and skateboarding ground, its dashing colors unabashedly poured all over the wall and the floor, a mixture of deafening rock music and the musty smell of hot pee in the air.

“Can I ask you something later?” Jacob shortened the distance between Ned and himself, sensing uncomfortably a sharp look from Aaron from the corner of his eyes.

“Go ahead.” Ned gave him a weird look, but Jacob knew that expression of his of apparent mock and heartfelt sympathy.

“Can I stay at your place for a few days?”

Ned raised one eyebrow. “Your sister kicked you out again? To be honest, Jacob. Who’d still live with their sister in college?”

Of course Ned didn’t know the so many benefits of living with one’s sister, such as they could make love unrestrainedly and shamelessly anytime they wanted in the kitchen or on the couch of the living room (“Like rabbits,” Evie said), or he could put dinner on the table when she came back from the library in the evening, or sneak into the bathroom when she bathed to give her a fright, and then get dragged into the bathtub until there was water all over the floor, or wake up on weekends on her bed, her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, his nostrils filled with the fragrance of her hair. The disadvantage was that parties could never get too late. “I don’t understand,” Evie said when knocking his door open the next day morning, “You promised to take all those people out by midnight. Did you even realize that you were messing around until two o’clock in the morning?” Of course not, he was barely conscious at that point and was practically dragged out of the front door when they left for nightclubs. Ned wasn’t there that day, and Jacob didn’t tell him about the sulk they were in these days.

“And your empty wine bottles, for heaven’s sake Jacob, your bloody wine bottles.” In addition to the endless cigarette butts, dirty clothes, empty packages of microwave food, the hair on the bathroom floor and dirty footprints at the entrance. Evie genuinely believed that anyone who didn’t sort waste for recycling should go to hell. They had quite a fight that morning, something that irritated and upset Jacob to no end. It was as if they hadn’t moved forward in over a decade. When they were kids, Evie could be blaming him for a whole afternoon for such trivialities as not having put pencils back to the pencil box or losing the lid of his lunch box. And the like.

Jacob hated to admit it, but his only weakness, if there was any, was probably Evie. Whenever she was pissed off at him, he’d always be on pins and needles. First he’d blame her (“Making a fuss out of everything”), then he’d fault himself (“But she wouldn’t be pissed if I hadn’t…”), followed by panic, despondency and anxiety, until Evie offered him an olive branch in one way or another (his favourite part). However, he’d rather shoot himself on the forehead than admit it to her.

“Hey,” Ned said, poking at the pocket of his shirt, “You’ve got a phone call.”

Jacob lowered his head and saw the glimmering light from the phone screen in his pocket, the gentle vibration giving the impression that the phone had its own life. He took out the phone and glanced at the screen, his heart skipping a beat at that instant.

“Hiya,” he said, plugging the other ear with a finger, trying to make out Evie’s voice from the other side of the phone in the rowdy background, but could only hear some faint electronic noise. He frowned and saw Ned pointing at the entrance. Of course, they were between the ground floor and the basement, at the very end of the counter. The signal could only be weak as hell.

“Can you hear me?”

Jacob started to make his way towards the entrance, dodging groups of noisily chattering schoolgirls, his heart racing and pounding in his chest as he approached the stairs. This was the feeling he was most familiar with, the feeling of coming home.

“Jacob? I can hear you. Can you hear me?”

“Yep. Miss me already?”

“Don’t be silly. Meet me at the front door.”

“How did you know I’m here?”

“Who else would post every event he goes to on Facebook.”

“Stalker.”

“Perverse.”

The call ended. He climbed up the last step, and the refreshing night wind wafted in from the street along with a wave of familiar chatters, car engines and warm streetlight, intermingled with a sweet scent of spring flowers. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened his eyes, he saw Evie standing right across the street, her long hair lifted up by the wind, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with a serious air, as if still mad at him. But he knew her, just as he knew his other half. He knew that she’d soon start smiling. It was as if he had already heard her giggling.


	4. Longing

Evie bent over, watching her calves immersed in the clear lake water. The greenish circles of light swayed gently on the waves, the reflection of the sunlight on the surface of the water making her narrow her eyes slightly. Jacob dragged himself heavily onto the boat behind her, and the hull started to rock back and forth under his weight. She held tight onto the edge of the boat, trying not to lose her balance. She could hear the sound of the droplets from his skin falling onto the deck, his wavering steps, and heavy breathing. Her body tensed up.

“I’m going to push you off the boat.”

“Jacob,” She said, without turning her head around. “Leave me alone.”

He sat down beside her, his chest still heaving sharply. He had been swimming for about half an hour in the lake, and didn’t return until he had reached the little isle in the center of the lake. Droplets from his body splashed on her arm, and her body trembled at the touch of it.

“Don’t be such a bore.”

Evie lifted her head, squeezing her eyes and staring off into the distance. The boat of Father and George was already far, far away now (“You scared all the fish away, Jacob”), and she could only see an indistinct black point on the misty surface of the lake. She turned to look at Jacob. His hair was dripping wet, plastered to his head, lips slightly parted, eyes bright and transparent under the sunlight, staring out into the gleaming surface of the lake in front of them. She leaned in and kissed his wet lips, sensing the fresh scent of lake water tinged with a faint smell of algae on his body. He gasped, deepening the kiss, holding her waist with one hand and pulling her towards him, his body cool with the lake water, something she held onto instinctively in that overwhelming dizziness in the head.

“Evie,” he breathed, “what are you doing.”

She didn’t reply. Her hand slid into his pants and took hold of his erect cock, his breath hoarsened instantly at her movement.

“And she says I’m the one who can’t wait.” He gripped her wrist, leaned in suddenly and kissed her lips again. She could feel his throbbing, blinding lust, and the heat from between her thighs.

“Shut up, Jacob.”

Evie let got of him, threw the shawl over her shoulders onto the deck and slid off the boat into the refreshing lake water. She clutched at the edge of the boat with one hand until her body managed to float in the water, then let go of it, and swam slowly away from the boat. She could hear her own heart pounding hard in her ears.

It was almost dark when they returned to the lakeside cabin. George had lit up the bonfire and was sitting beside the stone table under a lantern hanging on one branch of a tree, reading a book, some fish with their white bellies turned up lying quietly on the ground beside him. Jacob dashed through the courtyard barefoot, ran along the wooden floor of the porch and rushed up the stairs, and Evie walked by after him briskly, drying her hair with a towel.

“Where’s Father?”

“He’s in town for groceries, will be back in about forty minutes. Shall we wait for him?”

Evie paused, “Yes.” smiling at him. George smiled back and lowered his head again. Evie entered the house and closed the front door carefully behind her. Jacob hadn’t turned on the light. She groped her way in the dark, slowly up the stairs and into the room they shared. Jacob was lying on the bed facing the wall, his back to her, the covers piled up messily at the end of the bed. She closed the door behind her and locked it from the inside.

“Clever.”

Jacob said, without turning over to look at her. She could hear her own hastened breath and the chirping of birds coming home at dusk outside the window in the silent air. She walked up to the bed, lay down beside him, the curve of her body fitting perfectly his, and held him quietly, without saying a word. Her hand slowly made its way around his waist, into his pants and took hold of his cock, and she could feel its swelling and hardening under the fumbling of her palm.

Jacob turned over suddenly, the speed of his movement catching her almost off guard. He kissed her lips in a forceful and nearly rough manner, his hand reaching under her dress and tugging down her underwear, pushed her body over to the other side and slid into her without warning. Evie could feel how wet she already was. She tensed up, her legs curling up in front of her into a fetus position, the familiar pleasure at the fullness of his hot, hard cock filling her coursing over her body like deafening tides. She gripped the covers and closed her eyes, her toes curled up instinctively, their hoarse gasps echoing in unison in the dark, like two stray birds circling a bare branch. His fingers slid along her belly down into between her thighs, massaging her swollen clit with a familiar rhythm. His body was so tight and warm and solid against her, and it closed in around her, comforting her, pushing her up towards the climax, the pleasure threatening to take her breath away. She took his hand and bit hard on his fingers, trying not to make any sound. Then, there was this electric current racing through her entire body that made her quiver, shudder and convulse, her eyes tightly shut, her mind blank for a few blissful instants, as he kissed the back of her neck gently, and resumed his movement after a brief pause.

She opened her eyes, panting, pulled him out of her, climbed over him and slid him into her again. They remained in silence. “Careful with your head,” Jacob finally said, almost a whisper. She slept on the upper bunk, just like at home. She nodded and started to move her hips, his cock hard and rough and hot, hitting that sensitive spot inside her body at a steady pace, the urge to cry and to give in entirely too overwhelming for her to resist. She tilted her head and bit hard on her lower lip, her eyes closed shut. He grasped her arms and tugged her dress down her shoulders, his fingers stroking and caressing her bare breasts, sending waves of quiver down her spine.

This time her moves were more slow, gentle and sweet, and his hardness was stroking the most sensible, desperate part of her body, like a nimble finger striking the strained strings of a harp. The second orgasm hit her ferociously and she shuddered, like a withered leaf in the autumn wind, gripped by an urge to dissolve into that pleasure and stay trapped in it for all eternity, her head leaned tightly against on his shoulders, small, desperate moans escaping her throat. Jacob stroked her hair slowly, pressing a kiss to her hair. They didn’t talk. They didn’t need to. She just wanted him so much, longing for his filling her, over and over again, and that was all she cared, all she wanted.

She quickened her pace, her hips thudding heavily against his, and each time he would bury himself deep into her to the hilt. He looked up at her, and she couldn’t see his face in the dark, but she knew that he wanted her and longed for her, just as she did. She could hear the moans he could barely contain, feel the thin layer of sweat on her skin and his fingers tightening on her waist. He spent inside of her, the hot, wet and primal desire finally satisfied in that split second. She felt like a big white fish hidden in a deep lake that had got caught, extracted from the water and exposed to the sun, the moisture in the air evaporating and drying up around her, and then came the end of time, the moment when she finally felt complete.

They lay in the dark silence, without doing anything, without saying anything. He finally slid out of her body, something warm and wet dripping down between her legs. He still held her in his arms, their bodies half naked, like two children lost in the depths of the wood, Gretel and Hansel in the dark fairy tale. She still wanted him, longed for him. She would always be longing for him.

The sound of the car engine approached gently and came to a halt in the backyard. Evie felt as if the dried lake water had come back to life again on her skin, fresh, wet and sticky. She turned over and kissed Jacob again on the lips, like two shameless, fearless children, their mind innocently and soothingly blank.

The car door closed, the faint voices of Father and George drifting in from the backyard. Jacob kissed her gently on her back, sitting up slowly. Evie still lay there quietly, with her eyes closed. She didn’t want to get up, not until Father would come up for them. She just wanted to lie there, alone in the dark, with her longing.


	5. Danger Ahead

Evie bent down, spread out the printed blanket on the beach under the shadow of the parasol and slowly lay down, propping herself up on the elbows, stretching out her legs and putting down her sunglasses. The sun was hot and dazzling, the reflection of sunlight on the sand almost blinding to her eyes, a haze of mist hanging on the horizon of the blue sea in the distance. There were few people on the beach, and she could easily make out the figure of Jacob in the sea. He was wearing a pair of deep navy blue swimming pants, the muscles on his naked torso faintly visible from a distance, disappearing into the water, standing up, then plunging again into the waves.

“Did we lock the door this morning?”

Father suddenly asked her from behind. He was lying on the wooden bench, holding a novel of Raymond Williams in his hands, a serious expression on his face, as if he had just asked her a fundamental philosophical question. Evie didn’t say a word, groped in the bag beside her, held up the keys, shook them and put them back.

“Thank you,” Father said, lowering his head again. Evie took a deep breath and took out her own book. E.R. Dodds, The Greeks and The Irrational. Father happened to mention this book once, saying that it was one of the classics of Classical Studies when he was in university. She had always remembered that, and bought it from the bookshop when the first discount opportunity presented itself. Books recommended by Father were always good ones.

“Who would bring that kind of books to holidays?”

On the night previous to their departure, Jacob snorted in contempt when he saw Evie put the book into her luggage. His own luggage was filled with inflatable volleyballs, swimming pants of all sorts, rackets, and he stuffed his surfing board into the car boot at the last minute. He forgot to bring the sunscreen.

“I would.”

Usually Evie wouldn’t even bother to reply. They were fifteen years old, at the worst point of their relationship. She would simply ignore him most of the time, knowing that any reaction on her part would only incite and provoke him all the more. But for some reason she let her rage break out free that day, flipping the lid of her suitcase shut with all her force, straightening up and glaring at him.

Jacob seemed a bit surprised. He stood up slowly, and it was the first time that Evie noticed his shoulders and chest that appeared to have grown broad and thick overnight. It was not long after dinner, around nine o’clock in the evening, the dusk hadn’t completely disappeared yet from the sky, a faint golden ring enveloping the horizon beneath the inky, immense night. The window of the attic was open, and the chilly night wind blew into the room, bringing along a wave of faint crow cries. Evie felt her body hot and feverish all over, which, at the touch of that chilly night wind, seemed to have been plunged into icy-cold water. She suddenly became self-conscious, and couldn’t get rid of the idea that the cotton blouse buttoned up to the top that she was wearing was so silly and boring. Jacob was wearing a T-shirt with the letter print “Fuck Off I’m Awesome” on the front, his hair tousled, sticking out in all directions, a stain of tomato sauce from the dinner on his chin, a mixed expression of bafflement and surprise on his face. The more she stared at him, the more strange and bizarre he became, as if he had turned into a complete stranger altogether in the last three years. She was suddenly frightened.

“What’s wrong with you.”

“What is wrong with you? I just asked a question, look at how you overreacted. Is your period coming?” His tone at the end was completely aggressive.

“Sod off.”

Evie said, and left the room. Her face was burning.

They didn’t talk to each other all the way to the holiday destination. Father tried to make some clumsy jokes in the car (“Hold up Jacob, we didn’t bring the kitchen paper to clean up your vomit in front of your seat”), but soon abandoned his attempts. Usually, he wouldn’t intervene when a conflict broke out between his two children, knowing that all his efforts would be in vain. Evie wasn't sure whether it was a good or a bad thing.

It wasn’t until the second day after their arrival that Jacob came to talk to her again. “We can keep on walking to the left along the beach, ” he approached her and said to her when Father was at the counter for the lunch bills, without looking directly at her, “there might be a small port or hidden beach or something. Come with me?”

Evie knew that he was trying to make peace with her, but of course, he would never apologize. Not that she could expect anything of that sort from him. She nodded.

They went to a café on the beach that afternoon for the tea, and spent the second half of the afternoon on the beach. Father left when the temperature started to drop, and told them to meet up at eight o’clock in front of the house for dinner. They nodded, and when Father disappeared from the wooden pathway above, they stood up in unison, without saying a word or exchanging a glance. Evie felt her heart thudding loud in her chest, so fast that she almost felt light-headed, her mouth dry and her breath short. She didn’t even dare to look at Jacob. He had already set out on the journey, and she put on a cotton blouse and shorts over her dried out swimming suit, barefoot, taking her little bag with her, trailing along after him.

“It says danger ahead.” After what seemed like a century, Jacob stopped before a huge signal board, somehow baffled. Vast bulks of rock blackened and greened by the incessant crashes of seawater stood erect silently, separating them from the crowded beaches behind, a rusted metal wire wall cutting off the road before them, the concrete platforms and staircases behind it hard, cold and bleak.

“There should be a commercial pier behind.” Evie said, “Closed to tourists.”

“Boring. Thought it would be fun.” Jacob turned around and walked past her, frowning, without looking at her.

“I think we just walked past a smaller beach.” The sand beneath her feet turned into sluggish mud, dark green moss crawling all over the slippery stairs. Two middle-aged men lay quietly on the beach, naked from head to toe. Evie suspected that no one would notice even if they were dead.

“You want to hang out there for a bit? Not feeling cold?”

“It’s all right.”

Usually Jacob wouldn’t ask her how she felt. She quickened her pace and caught up with him, feeling the faint wave of heat radiating from his body. He was still stripped down to the swimming pants, droplets of seawater lingering on his suntanned skin. Tiny footprints that resembled little flowers lay bare before them, and it seemed that they belonged rather to pigeons than to seagulls. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears like thunders in a storm, so loud that it was as if the rest of the world had been muted. She couldn’t help wondering whether Jacob could also hear her heartbeat.

“Is that a good book?”

He finally asked her after a long silence, but still without turning around his head to look at her.

“Yes. It’s more about anthropology than anything else.”

“You like that?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t speak after that.

They finally arrived at the small beach they passed by a while ago. The two middle-aged men had already left, the undulating waves with white froth floating on the surface clashing against the empty beach and falling back into the sea, back and forth, over and over again. He turned around abruptly, and her eyes immediately fell onto his broad chest; she quivered, and before she realized, he grabbed her arm with one hand and closed the distance between them. Those few seconds stretched into infinity, as if centuries had passed by, and her eyes registered every detail of his body – the droplet on his right collarbone, the faintly visible bristles on his sculptured chin, the sunburn on his shoulders, the folds of skin around his navel, and the distinct lines of the muscles on his chest and abdomen.

And then everything happened.

His lips tasted like seawater and wind, and her heart pounded so hard, so helplessly and desperately in her chest that she thought she could die at any instant. His body leaned so close against hers, so warm, solid and perfect, and all she could do was shudder, shudder completely and mindlessly before the gate she had just pushed open. She could feel his broken breathes, feel his faint but firm kiss back, but she couldn’t open her eyes, couldn’t look at him, couldn’t think of anything, couldn’t do anything. An unparalleled, unprecedented sensation rushed over her from head to toe, as if she had just been pushed off a surfing board and fallen into the immense, boundless seawater underneath, the surface of the sea closing in above her head, all ordinary senses cut off and banished, the world around her dissolving into a dazzling, blurry surge of heat and sunlight. She could be lost forever, at the bottom of that endless sea.

That must be a message. An idea suddenly sprung to her mind. That signal board must be a warning. Danger ahead, but I still pushed that door open. I still chose to tread this path.

She pushed him away abruptly, turned around and trotted towards where they came from, her body trembling all over. Jacob didn’t follow along.

Evie blinked and put her book down. The sunlight was too dazzling, despite the parasol above her head and the sunglasses before her eyes. Jacob’s figure was still half-submerged in the waves, then turned into a small black point in the haze and finally disappeared into the distance. But she knew that he would emerge again from the sea, walk over to them, open a can of beer and sit beside her, the droplets falling from his skin on her body, and he would complain about the crude, rough sand under his feet. There would be sunburns on his shoulders, and his body would again radiate that familiar scent and heat of his that she desperately longed for. She only wanted him again.

“Jacob’s pretty energetic today, isn’t he?”

Father asked slowly from behind. Evie nodded, without saying a word, opening her book again.


	6. Teamwork

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter owes so much to the fryecest fic The Cogitations of George Westhouse by samwysesr also posted on AO3 that I'm so ashamed of posting it, PLEASE read her works she's just BRILLIANT

A sudden roar rang out somewhere outside the window. Ethan lay down the quill in his hand, stood up, drew the curtain open and peeked out at the backyard. The sky was leaden with bleak clouds hanging low, and the two tangled figures in the boxing ring were as still as a statue. But the silent tension between them was unmistakable. Jacob was trying to throw Evie over, but she held him tightly on the ground with her elbows and knees firm as a rock, her cheeks bright red from all the determination and the force she was exerting.

“That one doesn’t count!”

He heard Jacob bellow furiously. He had been more tempestuous and reckless in training of late, as if he felt that Evie bore him a personal grudge.

“Says who?”

Evie said haughtily and finally let go of him, leaping back into a defensive position. Ethan knew that she had won this round. Jacob stood up, slowly and resentfully, and swept his nose with the back of his hand wrapped in the blood-soaked bandage. He was waiting for a weakness in her defense – but he wouldn’t be so patient, Ethan knew he wouldn’t. He started to count to himself from one to three. Before he could count three, Jacob had already lunged at her.

Ethan stood there in silence, continuing his observation. As he had anticipated, Evie dodged his fist nimbly, then leaped to the right, hitting a heavy thump accurately on Jacob’s rib cage. He didn’t make a sound, but straightened up and threw another ferocious punch at her head. Evie lowered her head and dodged the attack, and in the blink of an eye, she was already behind his back.

Ethan closed his book, turned around and walked towards the entrance of the study.

When he arrived at the backyard, to his surprise, they had already stopped the training. Evie was drinking water, and Jacob was leaning against the ropes, panting, without turning his head around to look at him.

“Evie,” Ethan stood in front of the boxing ring.

“Father.”

She straightened up, an expression of obedience and barely suppressed pride on her face.

“Come up to the study. I need to talk to you.”

He turned around and walked back towards the house.

Strangely, during all these years in India, Ethan barely thought of Cecily. Even after he returned to England, though everything around him remained unchanged, rarely did he experience the surge of memories. He never mentioned her in front of George or the children. Maybe that was it, he thought. Perhaps he had accepted the fact that she was gone.

Until that day. He had always remembered that day – one day when the children were twelve years old, when he was supervising their training in the backyard. Jacob’s strength clearly had the upper hand, and each one of his attacks was more fierce than the one that had come before. Evie, however, appeared to be more impatient and stressed than usual, almost no less brash than Jacob in his better days. He knew that Evie was trying to perform the best she could in front of her father as always, but he had to remain impassive and impartial. Right at that instant, Jacob hit her over the head with a hefty whack, sending her body almost flying away and hitting the ground with a thump. His heart shuddered violently in pain, but all he showed outwardly was a slight frown. Before he could urge Evie to stand up, he found her already struggling to get to her feet, her expression as ferocious as a cornered cub.

It was Cecily, he thought, in her fiercest moment. Stepping back unconsciously, he almost stumbled, but luckily the children hadn’t noticed it for they had resumed the heated combat. He didn’t even realize what had happened until the tears came gushing out of his eyes. Turning around and walking towards the kitchen, his body trembling all over, he strained every nerve to keep his knees from dropping to the ground, his face drenched in tears.

It was fairly easy to pretend having moved on after she had suddenly disappeared from his life, as if she had never existed, if it weren’t for them, his children. But it wasn’t until that moment that a realization finally dawned on him – that from then on, until his dying days, every single second, he would always be living in pain.

Because she wasn’t there anymore, and there was no one, nothing, that could ever fill the hollow she had left in his heart.

Love was the most powerful blessing, but there was nothing capable of wreaking more damage than love itself.

From then on, Evie started to resemble her mother more and more with each passing day. Her smiling or pouting face, her movement and demeanor, or even her profile, her posture, could remind him of his passed wife. Sometimes when they were studying scrolls together in the study, memories would suddenly spring to his mind, and his tears would uncontrollably fall down in a heartbeat. In these moments, all he could do was stand up and leave the study hurriedly, to keep his grief away from her.

He endured all of it, in silence, in loneliness, his heart filled with hope and despair, suffering and happiness. Watching her growing up, was like watching Cecily coming back to life again, and he had to reprimand himself every time to banish this selfish idea.

She was already seventeen years old. At that age, he had already known Cecily. They were so young, so in love; they would sneak out to the pub in town on Sunday afternoons, eat peanuts with plum liqueur, laugh together at each other’s jokes, or sit together behind the barn or near the woods on the sunlit hill. She would rest her head on his shoulder, humming a familiar song to his ear, her scent as fragrant as the spring flowers. She was exactly like Evie now; her skin burst with youthful vigor and glow, her legs as strong and agile as a young doe, her bright eyes full of boundless hope, curiosity and ambition. It was life, the faith in future, a future that in his own life had faded away like a dying star, gliding inevitably towards extinction. She was the continuation of his life, yet such a whole different, independent being. They created her together, but she didn’t belong to anyone.

She only belonged to her own choice.

Evie was standing in the middle of the study now. He turned his chair around and sat down to face her. She was still panting slightly, the fabric on her chest soaked in sweat, speckles of blood on the bandage on her fists, a perplexed expression on her face.

“Sit down.” He said, pointing at another chair next to the desk. Evie stepped up, moved the chair back to the center of the study and sat down, still confused.

“Is something wrong with my performance, Father?”

“It is remarkable, Evie,” Ethan said slowly. “I want to talk to you about something else.”

“Was it…the mission with Jacob of retrieving the Templar’s memo?”

“Yes. Tell me again, briefly, what happened.”

“Yes, Father.” Evie frowned, clearly remembering an unpleasant experience. “I didn’t trust him on sentry duty, so I led him myself to the study, and stood sentry outside its window. I waited for a long time without seeing him come out, so I entered the study through the window myself. It turned out that he hadn’t found the memo, but I found it not long after that. But then, a guard noticed the opened window and discovered us in the study when he came to close it. We had to knock him unconscious in order to retreat safely. Father, as I stated in the report, no other guard noticed our intrusion. The guard we knocked out couldn’t have recognized us either, as we had our masks on.”

“I know, Evie. But what if it wasn’t just one guard, but a flock? And what if one, or more of them happened to have engaged in combat with you on a previous occasion, so as to know who you are and where you come from? ”

Evie blushed and lowered her head.

“Father-”

“Evie, listen to me. Do you know what the problem is?”

Evie lifted her head, gazing at him with utmost seriousness. Ethan felt a surge of warmth, love and pain flooding his heart. He must convey his message to Evie. She needed to know what he wanted her to know.

“You didn’t trust Jacob. You didn’t believe that he could carry out his task successfully, the reason why you left you duty to look for him in the study. First mistake. The second mistake was not having ensured that the window was well shut.”

“I did,” She murmured, darting her eyes away. “Who would have thought that the blot was broken?”

“Evie,” he said patiently, “Everything can happen in real life. Next time, you will know you can never leave loose ends. But it’s not what I want to talk about today.”

Evie tensed up immediately. He could feel the fear exuding from her, but he must carry on.

“You must trust Jacob. You must value your teamwork, and no teamwork would ever be possible without mutual trust.”

“But you said, Jacob’s methods-”

“It’s not as important as you think, Evie.” Ethan took a deep breath. “That I do not approve of his methods, doesn’t mean I don’t trust him.”

Stunned, Evie gaped at him, tongue-tied.

“But…what different there is?” Finally, she managed, cautiously.

“Evie, I know Jacob is important to you.” He suddenly steered the conversation to another direction, and noticed Evie immediately stiffened.

“Of course,” she murmured, darting her eyes away again. “He is my brother.”

“He is very important to me as well. You too. I love you, and you have to know, no one in this entire world can love you as much as I do.” Ethan said, a wave of emotions stirring his heart. “But remember that I will leave this world earlier than you do, too. At that time, all you can rely on will be each other, and your potential can only be fulfilled through your teamwork. This is why you must trust him.”

“I-”

Ethan raised one hand, interrupting her.

“I know, however, that after I leave, your relationship won’t be smooth.” He said slowly. “You are too proud, convinced that your methods are superior, or even that you are superior, especially as you take my opinion as supporting this conviction.” He continued, despite the shock on Evie’s face. “I know you admire me, respect me, and take my words as gospel. And he is only too eager and desperate to prove himself, which can lead to counterproductive outcomes. Yes, I do believe that his methods are too reckless, the reason why I have been training him by practical experiences, such as assigning him the duty as a watchman. But it is you that worry me more than he does.”

“Father, forgive me.” Evie’s face was bright red all over. “But you know how much I resent arrogance, and I am in no way the arrogant person you believe me to be.”

“Evie, I’m not blaming you.” Ethan shook his head. “It isn’t a personal attack; it is an observation. I know that before you go through more adversities and conflicts together, you won’t be able to understand my words.”

Evie widened her eyes, the expression on her face as much worried as earnest. He knew she was trying her best to reflect upon herself, and had to admit that she was no doubt more mature than Jacob. Despite her efforts, she was still too young and too inexperienced to view herself and her brother in an objective light. But he hadn’t finished.

“I only hope that you can remember -” He took a deep breath, and finally managed to speak. “Whatever choice you make, I will always understand and support you. A father, if he truly understands love, will know this. It’s the same for you. I know you love your brother, just as I do, so I need you to trust him, support him, no matter what choice he makes, including the choice of his own methods. You are an unparalleled pair. I am very proud of you.”

Evie lifted her head abruptly and stared at him, and he could see doubt, confusion, fear and wariness in her eyes. But he didn’t need to say anything more. He had already told her the most important thing.

“Go see how is Jacob, if you wish.” He turned around and reopened the book, but could not register anything on the page. His hands were shaking slightly. Behind him, Evie stood up, lifted the chair and put it down gently beside him, then left the study quickly and closed the door. He raised his head, closing his eyes, a long sigh escaping his lips.

Children always thought that grown-ups would never notice anything. They thought that if they hid everything well enough, if there wasn’t any solid proof, there would never be a reason for any suspicion. They thought that if they put on an appearance of mutual hostility and rivalry, he would never discover the truth.

They were indeed irreproachable at that. But they forgot that he was their father. He knew them, probably better than he did himself. He could capture the most subtle, nuanced fluctuation in their words, expressions, movements and emotions, the most intimate insinuation, the darkest facet of their secret. The alarm that Jacob's appearance sparked in Evie when he entered a room where she was present, the slightly unusual intonation in Evie’s voice when she told Jacob to come down for dinner, the tension as powerful as an electric current between them every time their bodies touched during the training, his ironic, almost teasing sneer and the flushing on her cheeks when she scolded him, all of it, nothing ever escaped Ethan’s eyes-

They were twins, two sides of the same coin, the perfect other half of each other. Their need of and longing for each other’s body and soul was so pure and absolute, that he, even as their father, had neither the right nor the power to intervene. He only loved them – a desperate, blinding and insane love, a love that was as much a blessing as a curse. This was the love that would stay with them even after he died, a love that they would eventually come to understand, a love that would make them understand one day how to love each other, without doubt, without reservation, without the slightest hesitation before dying for each other. Only then would they become truly invincible.

At least now, he could let them know the existence of this love.


	7. Reddit - [B/S] Mistaken for a married couple on holiday. Sis rode me in our hotel room. Advice please

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many posts in the incest subreddit are just so entertaining. Don't miss out on that

**Submitted by beaty_and_the_rook 19 hours ago**

Alright, it’s a long story…a bit background info, my sister (21F) and I (21M) are twins. She’s four minutes older than me. Mother died while giving birth, and father died last year. We’re both in uni, on holiday together right now.

We were very close when we were little. Father was working abroad in South Asia and didn’t come back to England until when we were six years old. Grandmother took care of us since we were born till then. Sis was always around, caring for me, and would always fight anyone back who bullied me for not having parents.

I never liked my father, but sis seemed to worship him. I couldn’t understand how she could show so much respect for someone who left us abandoned for six years. Recently since he passed away, I’ve been viewing him in a different light, but that’s another story.

So father came back, and we moved in with him. It was then that we started to distance ourselves from each other gradually. Sis has been very interested in Father’s work (archaeology) since she was little and preferred to spend entire afternoons reading in the study with him rather than play with me. At first, I was very sad and mad, but especially sad cause I didn’t think that sis, the only one close to me, would abandon me for father. Then I started to blame my father for taking her away from me and hated him even more. But then it was sis who began to blame me for always going against father. Anyway, it wasn’t a particularly happy childhood.

And when puberty hit thing just got worse. I found myself staring at sis all the time. She has a bit of freckles, but I find them super adorable (by the way she’s brunette with blue eyes). She’s got a great body (think Ronda Rousey), fit and strong with all the curves and stuff…alright you got me. I was mortified mostly and tried to find all sorts of excuses to not be at home. It was also when I knew I’m interested in guys as well, so the overall pressure was overwhelming. Anyway, that was tough for me. I wasn’t doing bad at school but wasn’t making any particular effort either. Sis was a straight-A student, and I felt like she was looking down on me, which drove me super mad. And sad. Father thought me a disappointment as always. Sometimes I could count the number of times I spoke to them per week on the fingers of one hand. I was desperate to get her attention but was absolutely mortified thinking she’d notice my feelings for her. So the easiest solution was to run away from it.

I didn’t know at the time whether she felt the same for me (now with hindsight I can say the answer is positive, given many details at the time. But back then I was a total mess and mad at her so couldn’t have noticed).

And something happened when we were in year ten and can confirm what I just said. Father got invited by an ex-colleague in India to London for a conference and wouldn’t be at home for four days straight. I wanted to sneak out to hang out with friends, but sis suddenly asked me if I wanted to stay at home and watch the series Dr. Who with her. I said yes, though I found it super dopey. Things were pretty normal on the first day and the second day. We sat together on the couch drinking beer and watching the telly, and I was bored to death. On the third night, I found her very close to me. Actually, a bit too close, almost clinging to me. She put her legs on the couch, leaned tight against me, and drank from my beer can that I had drunk from. Imagine the mess I was. I had no idea what the fuck was going on. I was so nervous, turned on, and frightened, and everything, you name it. To give you an idea, my sister is one of the most serious and appropriate people you can imagine, and you’d never expect anything remotely unseemly from her. So I was practically paralyzed there on the couch. Anyway, after we finished the series, I went back to my room, and I heard her taking a shower next door in the bathroom. And she just walked in after the shower without knocking on my door with her wet hair down, wearing only an oversized long shirt and nothing else. I had to sit up and cross my legs to hide my boner. She sat down on my bed and said that she’s sorry, that she’d been a bit harsh on me, that she could have paid more attention to my feelings, etc. I have no idea how I even remember what she said. Then she just paused and looked at me, and I thought I was going to have a heart attack. She put her hand on the top of mine and said that she loved me. I stared at her, my mind went completely blank, and I just leaned in and kissed her.

I thought she’d slap me right on the face, but she didn’t. She just flinched but didn’t seem surprised, and quickly rose to her feet and left the room. I think she was just scared. We never talked about it, as if it had never happened. Then we finished middle school and went to uni, and went pretty much our own ways. We both study in London but at the time barely saw each other, and we’d both been with other people since then. I guess we were simply terrified and were trying to avoid each other. But you know that feeling, that you keep thinking about someone and can’t really find that feeling in anyone else. That’s how I felt about sis. Now I regret a bit not having made a move earlier.

Fast forward to a year ago, father suddenly passed away. Sis called me when the diagnosis result came out and told me she needed to talk to me in person as soon as possible. The moment I heard her voice, I knew something terrible had happened. It was hellish for her, and it broke my heart to see her like that. I know how much she adored our father and wished to carry on his unfinished work (she chose History as well and said she’d continue father’s research in archaeology). Father’s death has had a huge impact on our relationship. We used to be a bit distant and were avoiding each other most of the time – she was always blaming me for being aimless and irresponsible – and only saw each other on holidays, something like that. She seemed to be with a classmate of hers at the time, son of an ex-colleague of father’s in India, though she never admitted it herself. He seemed a nice guy, but yes I was jealous. But after father passed away, we saw each other almost every day. I’d go to her apartment to be with her, cook for her, have dinner, talk a walk, have a drink or watch a movie with her. I just couldn’t leave her alone like that.

And one night, when I was about to leave, she told me that she wanted me to stay. I have always had that feeling for her, and I could swear that she’d never forgotten what happened when we were in year ten, though neither of us dared to make any move after that. I laid in the bed with her, holding her in my arms, kissing her head while she sobbed until she fell asleep. I love my sister very, very much, and I would do anything to make her happy. I don’t think I would make the same degree of sacrifice I would make for her for anyone else. That experience, for me, was as heart-breaking as intimate, and I’m sure it’s the same for her. We can understand and share each other’s emotions deeply, no words needed. We’re twins anyway, and there’s always an almost supernatural connection between us. At the time she was just so sad, and I dared not make any move. I feared that she’d think I was taking advantage of her when she was emotionally vulnerable; I just wanted her to be alright. On top of that, father’s death hit me hard as well. Thinking back, I could feel that he loved me very much, in his own way, though neither of us was willing to admit it.

Sorry for the rambling. Anyway, fast forward to three months ago, sis was doing a bit better. I just wanted to make her happy, so I proposed to travel together to the south of France for summer holidays, and I’d pay for everything (running a small business in London aside from uni, got some extra cash). She was clearly delighted. Four days ago, we arrived in Provence. We are staying in a suite in a hotel in the town center. We go to the market every morning, buying fresh fruits and vegetables and specialties, visit the countryside during the day, cook and have dinner together or go to restaurants. It’s been a long time since I saw her in such good spirits. Yesterday evening, we went to a live concert in a bar after dinner and had some drinks together. It was almost one o’clock in the morning when we came back to the hotel.

It’s the peak tourist season here now, and there were still a lot of people in the hotel’s bar at midnight. Sis was in a great mood and proposed to have a few drinks more before going back to sleep, and I agreed. She was absolutely stunning in her floral printed dress, and I was distracted by her all the time that I kept losing the thread of our conversations. When we were about to head for the bar, the receptionist stopped me and asked: “Mr. XX? You’ve got a parcel.” And that’s when I remembered that I had ordered some specialties during the day and that must be my delivery. I took the parcel and thanked her, and she smiled, “I hope you're having a great time here with your wife!” She had probably just glanced over our room number and surname, thinking that we were a married couple (I know we look a bit older than our age though). I was as a bit surprised and embarrassed, and was about to tell her that we were actually siblings when sis suddenly blurted out “Thank you!”, took my hand and brought me away. That’s when I noticed that she was already quite drunk, but I was no better than her. Things started to get really intense from there on. She was touching my calves with her feet all the time under the table, drinking from my glass, giggling with all the flushing on her cheeks, eyes glistening, and saying things like “Isn’t it lovely? To be a happy couple enjoying themselves on holiday”. Jesus fucking Christ. I’d be lying if I say I didn’t want to fuck her right there on the table.

And so it just happened. We went back to our room at two o’clock in the morning, stumbling along the way, and I can’t even begin to describe the tension between us. I was groping for the light in my room when she abruptly pushed me onto my bed with a striking force, straddled me and started to kiss me.

Oh, God. You know the feeling of longing for something for so many years and finally having your dream come true? That’s what I felt. But one hundred times better.

I could see her in the light from outside of the window, and I just watched her strip her dress off, drag down my trousers and pants, take my cock and slide down onto me with a moan. My mind went absolutely blank; if there’s one thing I can’t do in this life, it is to describe how heavenly it felt to finally be inside of her. She was already so fucking wet and when she started to move her hips on me, moaning and panting and whimpering, her gorgeous tits bouncing up and down, her hand reaching down to rub her own clit, I swear to god if I hadn't been careful it would have all been finished in an instant. Apparently, things were much easier for her – I was already fairly drunk, and it’s a miracle that I even remember anything at all – as she came almost immediately, and probably several times after that. The last thing I remember was her sucking me off and me coming in her mouth.

Now it’s almost noon, and she is still asleep beside me (I remember her oversleeping in the morning sometimes when we were little, and it’s so cute). With hellish hangover, now I’m overwhelmed by a flood of mixed emotions. I’m very, very happy but at the same time reluctant, and there’s also guilt and fear. I know we both haven’t fully overcome the consequences of our father’s death, and I’m afraid that I’m simply abusing her trust, taking advantage of her vulnerability to gain my own benefits. I’m not sure what we want either. Is she serious with her classmate? She never talks about it. I’m not sure whether what happened yesterday is something she’d regret now, or she has the same feelings for me as I have for her. I love her and would do anything for her, and I know that’s something far beyond the simple sibling bonding or sexual attraction. But I have no idea what our future will be like, where we’d end up being, whether we’re willing to go through all of it. So…advice, please.

 

 

***

 

 

[–] **milky_slish**  30 points 19 hours ago 

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Great story. I think there are several good signs and you guys need to talk. Personally I don’t think it’s just a one night stand for her.

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[–] **dumpster270** 28 points 18 hours ago 

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I can feel that you really care for your sister and based on your description I can say she’s reciprocating your feelings as well. It goes beyond the simple definition of “siblings” or “lovers”. Good luck.

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[–] **cloapedias** 26 points 15 hours ago 

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OP please smack that little sexy ass of your sis for me thanks

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[–] **uysmikles** 25 points 15 hours ago 

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Am I the only one who think it’s so cute that you’re mistaken for a married couple for being siblings and sharing the same surname??

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	8. Wheelchair

“Five pounds and fifty cents, please.” The young man behind the ice-cream cart said, handing over two giant ice-creams and some tissue paper. One was stracciatella and the other chocolate. The name stracciatella came from the Italian verb stracciare, to shred, the chocolate shreds in the ice-cream being the melted chocolate that had been poured into the ice-cream mass during the churning process and solidified into little dark stars, scattered all over the ivory ice-cream. The word stracciatella always reminded Evie of stars (Esther? Estelle? Stella? Estrella? The origin of the word was stella in Latin. Interstellar, a voyage across the stars). Father traveled to Italy one summer and brought back an English-Italian dictionary with him, and Evie lay prone on the floor of the sunlit study after lunch, leafing it through, trying to pronounce those strange words one by one, a church bell chiming in her head under the dazzling Mediterranean sun. She liked old books, fairy tales, the scarlet sky at sunset and the rainwater slithering down the window glass. “Stupid,” Jacob said. He liked football, chicken nuggets, annoying Father and Evie, and climbing trees. Of course, he wouldn’t have fallen from a tree if he hadn’t climbed one.

Evie took the heavy coins from her pocket and handed them over to the young man, then took the ice-creams from his hand. “Thank you.” She said, without looking at him. Would he call the police now reporting two unsupervised children in the park, one of them in a wheelchair? “The house is five minutes away. We will be back in half an hour.” Evie repeated to herself in silence, imagining herself facing the interrogation of dubious officers in uniform. As if they were luggage on a bus to the airport. Evie didn’t like the grown-ups. When talking to children of ten years old, the grown-ups always assumed that they didn’t know anything. Father never treated her like that. He read her excerpt from the Divine Comedy and told her about the love stories in spy novels and the plots in Indian mythology, where abounded endless revenge, bloodshed, and procreation (“Gross,” Jacob remarked). “I’m sorry, love,” Father stooped down and pressed a kiss onto her forehead. “I really have to be in the faculty this afternoon. Can you take Jacob to the park? Just for some fresh air, if his Majesty insists that much.”

“I’m not going to the park! I’m bored with it!” Jacob shrieked, furiously rolling the wheels of his wheelchair, moving about in the living room. Evie stood before Father, without looking at his eyes, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, and finally nodded. She was only ten years old, right, but every time she was with Jacob, she felt like a grown-up.

“Chocolate flavor. Happy now?”

Jacob let out an odd cry and started to lick the ice-cream greedily. Evie sighed.

“I want to go to the lakeside,” Jacob said suddenly, raising his head to look at her.

“Huh?”

“I want to see the ducks.”

The gravel and sand rustled under her feet, and the laughter of some young people playing guitar on the meadow rang out in the distance. Evie held the handle of the wheelchair with one hand, strolling slowly, and soon finished her ice-cream held in the other hand, the aroma on her tongue sweet, sticky and cold.

“Evie?”

“What?”

“What if I can’t stand up anymore?” Jacob didn’t turn his head around to look at her. His fluffy, light chestnut hair wasn’t as curly as hers, his nape downy and glossy under the sunlight. Evie frowned.

“Don’t be silly. The doctor said you'd be fine in at most one month.”

“But what if I can’t stand up anymore?”

“You will.”

“Can I play football then?”

“Yes.”

“And can we take a day trip to the mountains?”

“If Father says yes, then yes.”

Jacob didn’t answer after that.

“Why did you climb that tree?”

Evie asked, almost casually. The doctor had also asked Jacob this question when they sent him to the emergency, but amid all the sobbing and whimpering, his red nose and eye rims drenched by the tears, he couldn’t really speak. “I’ll ask him later,” Father told the doctor. Evie didn’t know whether he did so or not.

Jacob suddenly turned his head around and lifted up his puppy eyes to look at her, as if wronged, like a wounded little deer. He was cute, cheeks plump and pink, his eyes quite different from hers. They didn’t resemble each other very much as siblings. She knew that some girls at school liked him, pretending not paying attention to him when walking by the yard where he played football.

“Evie, I’m scared.”

It sounded like an invitation. Before she realized, she found herself bending down and pressing a kiss on his forehead.

“Don’t be afraid,” she said, touching his hair. He hated when Evie did that (“You’re ruining my style,” he always complained), but she knew that he wouldn’t mind this time. “We’ll go to the mountains when you’re alright again. Promise.”

“It’s because there was a nest on the tree, and I thought there might be some eggs. I remember you staying before a birds nest for a long time when we were at the museum. Do you remember? You might like them, so I climbed that tree. I swear to you, it was just bad luck. Normally I wouldn’t fall off a tree.”

Frowning, Jacob seemed to be trying hard to remember their trip to the natural museum last summer. The vast, colorful balloon in the giant museum hall, the swift sweep hands in the magnetometer, the awestruck expression on Jacob’s face. Evie stood alone in front of a wild bird nest beneath the green leaves for a long time and only left unwillingly when Jacob started to whine how hungry he already was.

“Don’t do it again. Silly.”

“I won’t. I don’t want to break my legs again. It sucks, can’t play football and stuff.” Jacob turned his head round. They had reached the lakeside. Grey and brown ducks, white swans floated idly on the surface of the water, gliding in and out the gentle reeds.

Evie stopped, walked beside him, then bent over again and kissed him on the forehead, and held him in her arms.

“You smell good,” he murmured. No wonder the girls at school liked him. Evie had thought that they might feel jealous of her but then found the idea absurd. If Mother was here, would she sit beside them on the lakeside, listening to the sound of the wind wafting through the reeds? 

“Don’t be silly,” Evie let go of him and sat down beside his wheelchair. The sun was too warm, she thought, closing her eyes slowly.

 


	9. Kiss

It was sunset when he woke up, the moment when the night was starting to devour the outline of the city. Dozens of unread messages and unanswered phone calls, breaking news, social media updates on the screen, the train of the world kept racing on, ruthless, meaningless, merciless and savage, not giving a damn about anything or anyone.

He should at least call Ned back, the idea crossed his mind faintly. The whole legal team was in the thick of the shit hitting the fan right now, though it’s not that the investors had never seen partners pulling out of the deal at the last minute. But he knew Ned, and he knew himself, knew that it was him who made the decision and had to clean up the whole mess on his own. He should have trusted his guts instinct before meeting with Pearl Attaway for the first time, he thought, but now everything could go hang itself for all he cared. He still had time, enough time, so much time to play the adult here and face the shitshow of a world that he didn’t even care to think, so he could just curl up in this corner of the world, savoring every minute of the sunset of apocalypse, without having to imagine what would happen after the dawn broke.

The lock of the front door clicked gently, the lights of the city cast its flowing chiaroscuro on the living room floor, and the approaching steps hit the parquet in slow but firm succession, ta, ta, ta. He closed his eyes, listening to his own breath in the silent air. There was only one person in this world that had a copy of the keys of his apartment. It was that day, after their father’s funeral, before meeting with their lawyer, when he stopped Evie in the hallway and slipped the keys into her hand. She lifted her head to look at him, and he avoided meeting her eyes. Hey, sis, he said, it’s just the two of us putting up with each other now. It’s my apartment’s keys, you know, just in case something happens-

She interrupted him. Jacob Frye, if you ever dare to let anything happen to you-

The sliding door of the bedroom was gently pulled open, and he thought of the mess of empty bottles and the dirty laundry in the hallway, taking in a long breath. He didn’t even get changed last night in the small hours of the morning before hitting the bed, stinking of cold wind, filthy corners of the city, decay and failure, alcohol and despair. He knew what he looked like right now and the absurdity of it all, but he still didn’t want to give a damn. Because if there was anything he regretted, it was that he didn’t tell Evie he was sorry, he was so busy, too busy, but it didn’t mean he didn’t miss her-

Finally, he lifted his head. Her figure was dark against the turbid city lights in the background, casting a dim shadow on the floor. Jacob, she said, her voice came out a bit trembling. She didn’t take off her coat and scarf, her long hair in a loose, messy low bun, and he couldn’t make out her face.

Hey, Evie, he responded faintly, cracking a smile unconsciously, though she couldn’t have seen it in the darkness. She came over to the bedside and kneeled down, her fingers cold and moist on his face, a dark wood fragrance in her scent.

You didn’t answer my calls. She said quietly. He knew too that she was busy in her fourth year in residency, night shifts and overtime a common occurrence due to systematic understaff, and she had already said she’s tired, but she had to keep going because it was her job. Maybe he was her job too, a heavy, crushing, exhausting one, a source of perpetual worry and preoccupation, something that always kept her up at night. From the tantrums and belligerence of childhood, to the extreme mood swings of teenage years, his flippant attitude and whimsical life choices as an adult, there were way too many times when he yelled at her, why can’t you just leave me alone? Why do you care? He didn’t remember her answer, but of course, at the time he never cared, but maybe that’s just Evie, and that’s just life. They were not the heroes that saved the world he dreamt of becoming as a child, but ordinary people going through the ordinary hardship of daily life, work, love, hate, distance, loneliness, company. She had to do her job, and she had to care about him, because she simply did, because she had made that choice.

No, I didn’t, he repeated, smiling. Finally there’s something we both agree on, isn’t it grand? Surprisingly, he managed to make out her face in the dim light, and there were faintly visible wrinkles around the corners of her eyes and on her forehead, a trace of the merciless passage of time. But at least now, she was still here with him, still and always beautiful, so beautiful that he was left breathless with an urge to cry. She pressed her forehead against his, the fresh, soothing touch of their skins reminding him of the summer holidays in the south when they were young, the flowers dangling from the trellis in the terrace swinging in the refreshing night breeze after sunset, the flickering candlelight on the desk, the warm echoes of crowds on the street and the ringing of church bells. They waited until their father had gone back to his room and left the hotel in the night, alone, hidden in the shadows of the old city, whispering, chuckling, like two innocent children. He remembered the touch of her soft kiss on his lips, red wine, rosé, the salty and astringent taste of pickled olives, the dews on the grass wetting the lower hem of her long cotton dress, her gentle giggle and breath beside his neck. Long, long gone were the shadows of memories lost in the past, and that was part of himself long dead coming back to life, evanescent in the melancholic golden light.

She didn’t say anything, not even the typical remark that he could at least have sent her a message to save her the effort of crossing half the city to see whether he was dead or alive. What’s wrong, she just asked, in the gentlest, quietest voice he could ever imagine, and that just made his heart break. Something inside him finally collapsed and shattered into pieces, and he remained silent, knowing she’d sense the warmth of the tears streaming down his face. She leaned in and kissed him on the forehead, slowly and gently climbed into bed, and held him in her arms.

Hey, brother of mine, she said, it’s alright, it’s alright now, I’m here. I’m here. I’m here. He held her back tightly, almost unconsciously, like a drowning man holding a piece of floating wood. He didn’t have to say anything, and she would understand. Her kisses fell onto his forehead, eyes, cheeks and lips, over and over again, silent, devoted, firm, solemn and sweet, the golden church bells ringing across the silent summer sky. I’m here. I’m here. That was still her kiss of their everlasting summer nights, the only constant in his life, the only place he’d always go back to.

He closed his eyes again, letting her kisses dissolve into his blood.


	10. Why? [1]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally written in English. It's so much fun 100% would recommend

“Then tell me, why? Why me? Because I’m your brother and always available? Because that’s convenient for you? So why are you accusing me now of using you?”  
  
“Jacob, you need to calm down.”  
  
Her voice came out too trembling for her liking. She didn’t know whether she blinked hard to force herself to face him, or to keep her tears at bay. It was a battle she couldn’t lose.  
  
***  
  
Papers, essays, notes, books, rinse and repeat. You’re brilliant, you can handle this, you always exceed the expectations. It was what people had been telling her from day one. At some point, she grew numb to what she actually did, and had developed an irredeemable addiction to the intoxicating satisfaction of it all. How good are you? She interrogated herself, unconsciously, unconsciously, over and over again, with the harshness and mercilessness of an inquisitor. Statistics didn’t lie. Only statistics could prove you. Grades, ranking, percentile, admission, rinse and repeat, the pride and the sense of duty dwarfing everything else in life. She clung onto that feeling, hopeless, desperate, cursing the reward and punishment mechanism that took her prisoner, despising the world for applauding her, hating herself for the choice that was barely hers.  
  
Because I’m never good enough.  
  
There she was, at one o’clock in the morning, alone in her room, religiously going through each one of the five hundred pages of a textbook in physiology for the midterm, with red-rimmed eyes, a lingering headache and the bitterness of vending machine coffee in her mouth. “Go get some life, sister,” she remembered the mocking tone of Jacob’s remark, then waved it aside wearily. It didn’t come off as sincere or serious anyway. But then, of course, they weren’t really talking.  
  
Everything was wrong with him, including his sister. She thought bitterly, turning over a page.  
  
Thinking back, they hadn’t really been close, not in the usual sense. She was not the caring big sister, and he was not the considerate, loving little brother, though a bit more of affection wouldn’t be too much for a motherless household with a nearly constant paternal absence. God forbid if it ever crossed Jacob’s mind to ask about her feelings. Or vice versa. They didn’t talk about feelings, no one ever did, not even grandmother when she handed them over to their father as if they were some luggage, not even Father after six years’ absence without any excuse, not even Jacob or herself when they fell asleep in each other’s arms on the first nights after their father’s return, exhausted from crying. They lived their lives, together, in silence, in understanding and misunderstanding. They learned to love by talking about baseball matches, school trips, exams, holiday plans and political news, about the weather, Christmas gift cards and surprise parties, by preparing supper when Father arrived home late, by her grabbing one box of Jacob’s favorite cereals in the supermarket when he couldn’t come shopping with them due to football training, by Jacob reading her medieval adventure stories in funny voice when she was sick and tired and bored in bed. They probably did learn to love each other, she thought. But they just never really talked.  
  
Then everything went wrong.  
  
Evie inhaled deeply, pinched the bridge of her nose and stood up. She needed a break, and she knew it. She went into the bathroom, opened the tap and poured some cold water onto her face. Either the splashing sound of the water was too strong, or she was too far gone in her wandering thoughts, it took her a while to notice the knock on the door.  
  
There couldn’t be anyone else at this hour. Her heart started to race up in anticipation, and she reprimanded herself for it. She sighed, left the bathroom, turned off the light, trudged to the door and opened it up. She hadn’t noticed how heavy and sour her body felt when she was seated.  
  
“You stink.”  
  
She turned on her heels and started to walk towards her desk, without even looking at Jacob’s face. A warm, strong hand grabbed her wrist, and the next thing she felt was his solid body pressed tightly against hers, his scent clouding her senses, his drunken murmurs along her ear.  
  
“Is that how you welcome me?”  
  
Jacob’s voice didn’t sound exactly teasing, but the intimacy and suggestion to it still sent a shiver down her spine. Jesus fucking Christ, Evie Frye. You don’t have time for this. And that’s one on you.  
  
“As you can see, I’m busying studying for my exams, unlike you who spend every available night going to pubs to get drunk and manage to make every unavailable one available.”  
  
“And what’s the problem with that? That’s what university is for.” His arms were around her waist now, pulling her even tighter.  
  
“And that’s what your sister is for? For you to use when you’re as drunk as a lord, when you are horny as fuck?” Her voice was raising without her noticing.  
  
“Mmh…kinky. You know, you kind of surprise me from time to time with your creativity.”  
  
“Stop.”  
  
“Come on, Evie, I know you want it too,” his hand was reaching down now, with that sweet, deep voice of a spoilt child, an enchanting lover, someone she shared such a dark secret with, a secret that made her knees weak and her mind blank, something she desperately longed for but tried everything to escape from. She closed her eyes, the despair welling up inside her.  
  
“I said STOP.”  
  
Her force was stronger than both of them had anticipated. His body almost doubled up in pain with the powerful backward blow of her elbows, as he staggered back, eyebrows frowned in shock. She turned around to face him, her chest heaving up and down in mind-numbing fury.  
  
“What are you taking me for? For God’s sake Jacob, have you heard yourself?”  
  
Her body was shaking, she could sense it. Whether it was pain or rage or desperation or frustration, she couldn’t tell, nor did she want to.  
  
“Fuck, Evie, you really hurt me.”  
  
He breathed, straightening himself up. He looked almost innocent and vulnerable in the dim light of her desk lamp, like a child, a hurt, puzzled expression on his face.  
  
“Get out of my room, I don’t have time for this.” She turned around again, not sure whether it was to hide her face from him. She suddenly felt an urge to cry.

  
Silence. She took a deep breath.  
  
“I said get out of my room.”  
  
“Do you really want to know?”  
  
His voice behind her was clear and steady, unlike the drunken murmurs of his only a while ago. She turned around to look at him, her eyes wide.  
  
“What are you talking about?”  
  
“Do you really want to know what I take you for?”  
  
Jacob’s face was half buried in shadows, those hazel eyes shimmering in the dim light. He took a step forward, his hands clenched into fists on either side of his body.  
  
“No, don’t,” she breathed, closing her eyes, a chill of fear silently creeping in.  
  
“I see you as someone I love.” His voice came out as solemn and gentle as a prayer, as if afraid of scaring her.  
  
Evie opened her eyes again. The expression on his face was tender and melancholic, as if supplicating for a promise that would never be fulfilled. She looked at him, the pain eating away at her.  
  
“Stop lying.”


	11. Why? [2]

“Of the so many things that are wrong with you, there’s only one thing that really pisses me off, Evie Frye. You’re no better than me, and you need me, just as I need you, and you know that. So suck up your god damned pride and stop lying to yourself.”

There were noises roaring in his ears, and he could barely make out what he was saying. She was staring at him in silent determination, eyes glistening with tears, lips curled up, as if it was a life-or-death contest. That was what he hated her for, and it only hurt because he cared.

 

***

 

Of course, it was always like this.

She was always the first one to finish homework, the first in the class, the first to receive scholarships, the first to earn some nonsensical award in the local community. People didn’t need to know everything about Frye’s family to tell the difference, and he was too smart a child to know he couldn’t compete with her using the same strategy.

She was the good kid, but he knew how to gain people’s favor. From cracking snappy remarks to impress the grown-ups, to playing the leader of a whole gang of kids who followed him with a fervor and excitement similar to that of religious fanatics, he had an almost natural charisma to him that he had learned to make the most use of along the years. He didn’t need to impress the teachers, or his father, or his sister for that matter; that was not his domain. As long as his loyal followers still handed snacks over to him during recess as a tribute, slid him old porno magazines through the basement window when he was grounded, or offered their house for him to throw home parties for the cool kids from school when their parents weren’t at home, he didn’t really care what anyone else thought of him. There’s no such thing as a free lunch, though. He maintained his relationships carefully, getting informed, observing people’s reactions, analyzing their motives and desires, offering them exactly what they needed without shying away from speaking up for himself.

Not that he was born an impeccable strategist. Things were learned, though he might not realize it. There were times when he had to pay for his too full of an ego, for his negligent, reckless actions or flippant attitude, but then no one could really blame him. It was actually fair, if you thought about it. If you made a mistake, you paid for it. If you didn’t work on something, you couldn’t expect anything from it.

Jacob didn’t know whether it was just the wishful thinking of the just-world hypothesis, but he had to believe something and work toward it. And that something didn’t include the relationship with his sister. He was too busy being himself, and wasn’t ready to listen to her. But then, of course, they didn’t really talk.

She took herself too seriously, as far as he was concerned. And that sense of superiority solely based on academic performance translated directly into her contempt towards him, though he didn’t realize he was doing exactly the same thing in the opposite direction. He mocked her mercilessly for her bookishness, for her eager to please Father and the teachers, and the pleasure he derived from it only reconfirmed that he was the one making all the right choices.

They were angry at each other. Distant at best, hostile at worst. And they thought it would always be like that.

Until everything went wrong.

 

***

 

Jacob didn’t remember when exactly was that – when they were fifteen, sixteen? He might remember if he looked up the historic weather report. Record temperature in that summer, people dying from the extreme heat, shops closed during the afternoon, and his sister in the kitchen at eight o’clock on a Sunday morning when she thought he’d never have woken up, naked from head to toe, except a tiny black lacy panty that still left a good part of her plump hips exposed to his eyes.

Evie screamed, arms raising immediately to cover her breasts, and raced past him up the stairs. He cursed and turned around, face burning, eyes shut close, as if he had never seen a naked body before. Teenage flings were as important to his ego as they were to his body, consumed all day long by intense fantasies and incessant sexual drive, but this time, something was off, he sensed. Something was terribly wrong with what he had just witnessed and felt.

Life carried on without either of them acknowledging what happened, but nothing was ever the same again. A terrible realization dawned on him: he only didn’t realize how beautiful she was because he was so full of himself and mad at her all the time. He started to imagine her naked when he stroked himself, imagine how her breasts would feel like in his hands, how she would breathe if he could run his fingers along the bare skin of her inner thighs, how she would moan and squirm under him and beg him to fuck her when he had made her come with his tongue playing with her swollen clit and his fingers in her slicking, twitching cunt, how amazing it would feel to be inside of her, feeling her clenching tight around his cock. He started to watch siblings porno, read incest stories, daydream about him running into her naked again, or even into her touching herself on his bed one day when he’d come home from school, the preposterous, merciless fantasy making him come so hard into his hand on countless nights, desperate for the warmth of her body that he had only briefly touched on the rarest of occasions over so many years they grew up together.

It must be the way he looked at her that betrayed him. She started to fluster and scurry away whenever they crossed in the hallway, dodge his eyes whenever they spoke, avoid spending time with him alone, at home or at school alike. Her embarrassment only proved one thing to him: she had to pretend to have brushed it under the carpet precisely because it affected her so much that she had to run away from it, otherwise she wouldn’t be able to face the enormity of it all. The thought relieved him and tortured him at the same time, only making his desire for her even more unbearable.

A flame wouldn’t spark if there weren’t already wood drenched in petrol. All they needed was the match. And it really took him off guard when she finally lit up the fire.

 

***

 

“What the hell are you-”

“I said stop lying. You don’t care-”

“You’re not the one who decides whether I care or not!”

Jacob was almost shouting now, face distorted in anger, fists clenched tightly and half-raised in the air. Evie countered his stare stubbornly, unwilling to give in.

“Admit it, Jacob. We are different, and have always been. Things that happened, happened, and there’s nothing we can do to change that. But to say it wasn’t mostly a physical thing would be coward.”

At that instant, he saw red.

“You have no idea-”

“Otherwise," Evie carried on, with the coldness she was so good at, “why did we stop it? I’m busy with school and don’t have time for it, and you went along with that. I have my life, Jacob, and I’m sorry if sometimes you aren’t the priority.”

“I stopped because I didn’t want to upset you.”

He started to feel desperate, his voice came out more supplicating than he had liked it to be. She looked at him, almost in pity.

“Jacob,” she darted her eyes away from him, suddenly sounding tired. “It’s half past one in the morning, and I have an exam to prepare for. You’re drunk, and angry, and upset, and I just don’t think right now is the best time to talk. Go get some sleep.”

“I’m not leaving.”

Evie crossed her arms in front of her chest, eyes narrowing.

“Don’t be a child.”

“I will only leave if you admit you lied to me.”

“Lying to you?” Evie’s face was as if she had just heard the most ludicrous joke in the world. “I beg your pardon?”

“You lied when you said it was mostly a physical thing. I don’t believe you. I could feel it,” he was stepping towards her again now, his voice raising, “I could feel how you needed me, how you wanted me. I could feel you cared, because you are my sister.”

“You see?” Evie raised her voice too, a trembling one on the verge of tears now, “that’s the whole problem. Do you have any idea how messed up we were? Normal people don’t go around fucking their twin brother, for God’s sake Jacob, in case it hasn’t crossed your brilliant mind yet. Did I tell you I was looking for help but had to give it up because I was too busy with school? Do you have any idea how I felt all the time? Of course you don’t, because you were too busy having fun fucking your sister and bragging about your incestuous adventure to your pals at parties, and couldn’t give two hoots what real commitment is.”

His felt like a heavy blow had just hit his heart.

“So it wasn’t because ‘you’re busy with school’ that you decided to call it off.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“Then tell me, why? Why me? Because I’m your brother and always available? Because that’s convenient for you? So why are you accusing me now of using you?”

“Jacob,” She was holding back her tears as best as she could, and it broke his heart. “You need to calm down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit it's so much fun


	12. Why? [3]

“Much as you want to be someone else you’re not, much as you pretend how good you are at pretending, you can’t hide it from me anymore.”

“And what makes you think that?”

“Evie, don’t make me laugh. You are much smarter than this, I know you are.”

“And what if I’m not?”

The fear in her voice was real. It was dangerous to expose herself to anyone like this, especially to herself. And it was already too late.

 

***

 

It wasn’t that Evie didn’t know it was wrong.

It all began even earlier than she’d thought, when she first discovered sex and learned to touch herself until she reached climax, muscles spasming with overwhelming pleasure, eyes closed shut, moans in her throat, legs shaking, skin glistening with sweat. It was him, all the time, Jacob, her twin brother. It was always him in her fantasy that pressed her tightly against the wall, kissing her on the neck, fingers playing with her nipples, murmuring dirty things to her ears. Do you like touching yourself? Look at yourself, look at how wet you are. Do you want me inside of you?

It wasn’t her fault, not really. Evie wasn’t the only one who fell prey to those chiseled features of his face, those hazel eyes, his broad shoulders and muscled arms, his carefree laughter and playfully teasing tone. And how sometimes he would casually strip down to the trousers at home, as if his mere presence wasn’t distracting enough.

The more turned on she was fantasizing about it, the worse she felt about herself afterward. And the more awful her guilt was, the more enticing the whole fantasy became. There she was, hopeless, desperate, tortured, punished and secretly relishing it, resenting him and herself. And it didn’t help either how distant they emotionally were.

It wasn’t that she had time for the usual messing around. Evie Frye was the model student, Father’s favorite daughter, teachers’ pet, the good girl in everyone’s eyes. It was simply incongruous with her image to cross any lines, though no one had ever told her not to. She did, however, in the worst way imaginable.

So Evie took the chance when she saw one.

It wasn’t so much her intention to flash Jacob as a vague expectation that something would happen when she snuck into the kitchen on a hot Sunday morning almost totally naked. And the moment she heard his steps down the stairs, her heart almost burst with ecstasy in her chest. Feigning embarrassment was easy – all she had to do was to scream and run. What came afterward only made her wonder whether she lived in a dream: Jacob finally started to see her in the same light as she did him.

Evie could feel it, feel the hunger and lust in his eyes and the insufferable heat it caused to between her thighs. She had to relieve herself, relentlessly, desperately, even more so than before, filling herself with fingers she’d imagine as his, imagining him calling her names and debasing her, the fantasy taking her to climaxes she’d never thought would be possible in her wildest dreams. Her initial shyness was soon replaced by a determination boldened by the burning desires emanating from his stares, a tipping point she desperately needed to finally make that move.

It was easier said than done, but when Evie finally stepped into his room when he was playing video games on his computer, grabbed his hand and slid it down to between her legs after she had just touched herself in her room, the world she had known to that point came to an end.

She was still a virgin when that happened. He took her, just as roughly as it sounded. The initial pain and discomfort of sex soon ebbed away, giving way to a pleasure she could never possibly imagine with her own fingers, magnified infinitely by the forbidden nature of their relationship and her shame. Within weeks Jacob was fucking her everywhere, on the couch of the living room, on the bedroom floor, in the kitchen, in the bathrooms at school, his fingers entangled tightly in her hair, on her waist, covering her mouth shut so that students in the hallway wouldn’t hear her moans of pleasure. He teased her, mercilessly, as he had been teasing about her bookishness, whispering to her ears how wet and ready she was for him, how desperate she was for her brother's cock, no matter how decent and prim she made herself out to be. She wanted him to use her, emotionlessly, detachedly, to make her blind, burning desires go away, so that she could go back to her normal life as a functioning person, not the slave begging for his cock that she too often found herself to be.

But the vicious cycle never broke, not until then.

 

***

 

“Oh, so here it goes again, Miss Evie Frye telling her brother to calm the fuck down cause he’s a mess and can’t help himself. Listen, of the so many things that are wrong with you, there’s only one thing that really pisses me off, Evie Frye. You’re no better than me, and you need me, just as I need you, and you know that. So suck up your god damned pride and stop lying to yourself.”

“I never said that. I never said you’re a mess. And I don’t lie to myself.”

They stood against each other, the tension building up to a point of no return. Her heart was racing at full speed in her chest, tears hot in her eyes, her mouth dry and breathes short. She must keep it together, she had to.

“Why did you never tell me?”

There was a tinge of hurt and tenderness to his voice after a brief silence. Evie blinked and forced her tears back, taking a deep breath.

“Because it was obvious.”

Jacob huffed. “And you keep forgetting what’s obvious to you doesn’t have to be obvious to me.”

“So you were only getting off on how hot it was to fuck your sister, never feeling guilty about it?”

“I didn’t give a damn whether you are my sister, I only wanted you, do you understand that? Obviously, you’re my fucking sister, so what? And yes, I did get off on that idea, as do many others. The fact that we made the move doesn’t automatically make us worse than anyone else.”

She was too exhausted, Evie realized. She groped behind her and grabbed the handle of her chair, slowing sitting down. She lifted her head to look at Jacob, his face again in tender pain, his words having touched her as much as they did him.

“Take a seat,” Evie said, beckoning to the bed beside the door, her voice hoarse and tired. Both of them must look ridiculous right now, she thought. Yet either of them wanted to leave, not yet. They could stay here in her room forever, a forlorn floating island illuminated by a dim light on the boundless dark sea of a night, talk, get angry and yell at each other, talk more, and yell more, for all eternity.

Their eyes met, and she looked away immediately. He was waiting for her to say something, she could sense it. Now it was her turn, and she couldn’t think straight, but she had to.

“It was a physical thing to me-” Evie started off, took a deep breath, and fell into silence. Jacob sat down on the bed slowly, never taking his eyes off her face. She closed her eyes for a moment, then tried again. She never did this; they simply never talked about feelings. There’s always a first time for everything, she thought, the idea of opening up making her heart twist.

“It was a physical thing to me because I wanted to be left alone.”

“Because I was an arse and made you look bad in front of others?”

“Because I envied you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What the fuck is happening why can't I shut up


	13. Why? [4]

Jacob was looking at her in disbelief now, mouth open. Evie avoided his gaze, as if nonplussed by her own words, and fell into silence again. She must be feeling vulnerable right now, he realized, and had to repress the urge to hold her in his arms. It was not his forte, as much as it wasn’t hers, and it felt so odd and intriguing, the yearning for each other’s touch, and the fear of hurt and silence.

“You envied me?”

It did confirm a vague suspicion of his that had been lying buried deep down, but Evie’s confession aroused in him a cascade of mixed feelings he couldn’t quite understand. Antagonism and rivalry between them two were the only type of relationship they would openly admit, both to each other and to themselves.

“But for what?”

“Because you do as you please with no regard to others.”

“I thought it was what you hated most about me.”

“It was.” Evie let out a short, dry laughter, “but I’d be lying if I say I didn’t envy you for it. I had to play the right role, be the good girl, the one who cleaned up after you, the counterbalance to your mess of a life. I was the one who had to be on time when the bus arrived and the lecture started, the one who worked hard and got good grades, the one who kept Father happy. I hated you, your parties, your pubs, when you came home late drunk and high, the way you confronted Father and me, the way you didn’t give a fuck about anything or anyone but stayed true to what you wanted, the way you teased me, took me and owned me and made me wet and wanton and desperate for you. Because I wanted to be there with you too. I wanted to share those experiences with you, to be close to you, emotionally, but I couldn’t. Because you wouldn’t let me, much less myself.”

“Evie-”

“And I felt awful about myself for it all the time. I still do.”

His breath became ragged and short, and his chest was heaving up and down now.

“But it wasn’t your fault-”

“Jacob,” Evie smiled bitterly, “it was just me. At the time you didn’t understand, neither did I. I was the one with problems, including the problem of blaming myself for how I felt and what I wanted. And I can’t even help it. The only solution I could find was to push you away.”

He had had enough. He rose to his feet and walked over to her, and knelt down before her chair.

 

***

 

“Evie.”

His voice was gentle and insistent, and it made her heart melt and shudder in pain all at once. She couldn’t take it, it was too much.

“Evie, look at me.”

She drew a deep breath and finally met his gaze, a droplet of tear falling down her cheek. She could see her own reflection in those beautiful hazel eyes that look at her firmly and earnestly, and the pain written across his face.

“Much as you want to be someone else you’re not, much as you pretend how good you are at pretending, you can’t hide it from me anymore.”

“And what makes you think that?”

“Evie, don’t make me laugh. You are much smarter than this, I know you are.”

“And what if I’m not?”

Jacob paused for a moment.

"I know because you're my sister."

He took her hand, gingerly, gently, as if afraid of breaking her, his eyes never breaking contact with hers. I’m sorry, she wanted to say, but only a faint, weak whimper came out from the back of her throat, her vision now blurred by the tears she could no longer contain. Then, she felt the other warm hand of his cupping her cheek, the thumb gently wiping the tears away.

“Why did you push me away? Please, say it again, Evie.” 

“Because you never seemed to care. Because I envied you, resented you, wanted you. Because I didn’t know what’s wrong with myself, and I was in pain.”

She closed her eyes, the tears flowing down her cheeks. His thumb never stopped, stroking her face like she was the most beautiful and fragile thing in the world.

“Evie, I want you to listen to me right now. You are my sister, the only person I’ve ever loved so much, the only one I have left in this entire world. You are brilliant, intelligent, earnest, decent, and adorable. I secretly admired you, but I never wanted to admit it. I wanted to be close to you, and was so hurt and afraid of your rejecting me that I pretended I didn’t care. But I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Evie opened her eyes. She could see him better now, see the purest smile she’d ever seen on his face, feel the warmth of his hand on hers and on her face, smell his scent she had missed so much. This was the moment she had been fearing and yearning for desperately for too long in equal measures, when she felt so vulnerable, loved, desired, understood, weak and strong all at once. She just wanted to make this moment last longer, longer, forever, so that they could stay together, till the end of time. But she had to make it happen.

She leaned down, closed her eyes and kissed him.

 

***

 

It would be the most preposterous lie in the world if he said he hadn’t missed her.

Her scent was warm and sweet and familiar and it only made him want to cry out in utter bliss, her lips so soft and hot that he’d give up anything to lose himself in that kiss forever. He could feel how the kiss sent a wave of heat and shiver right down to his groin like an electric current, how his body heated up as if on fire and screamed for more, more, more of her touch and warmth, more of her, her, her, her only and her alone. He leaned his forehead against hers and cupped her face in both hands, breaking the kiss with the deep sigh of a dying man seeing the glow of heaven.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.”

She let out the smallest moan of happiness and pressed her lips onto his again, this time with so much more desire and force that his heart raced up like crazy and his mind started to go blank in a rush of ecstasy and lust. Before he realized, she was coming down off the chair, pushing him down onto the carpeted floor and straddling him, her hands tugging desperately at the lapel of his shirt.

“God, Jacob, I want you, I missed you so much, I want you right here, right now.”

His hands were on her waist now, the warmth and softness of her body palpable under only a thin layer of fabric, the forbidden desire ardent and fervent like a blissful curse. She gasped and took his hands to those soft breasts of hers, and he stroked them gently yet lustfully, as she moaned in the most wanton, enticing voice that made him shiver, head thrown back, her hips grinding anxiously on his cock that was already hot and hard as a rock in his trousers.

“I want you inside of me now.”

In a matter of seconds, their clothes were cast on the floor in an indecent heap, his naked body arching above hers, cock hard and hot against her drenched slit, both of them panting heavily, bodies trembling all over in anticipation. She wrapped her legs around his waist in desperation, trying to pull him closer.

 “Say it, I want to hear it.”

“Jacob-”

She was moaning now, whether in pleasure, anticipation or desperation, he couldn’t tell. Her body squirmed and writhed under him, eyes closed shut, face contorted by desires, her beautiful chestnut hair disheveled underneath her. The tip of his cock was slick from her soaked entrance, the flicking contact making them both shiver.

“Say you need me, say you love me.”

“I love you, Jacob, I love you, please, I want you now, Jacob-”

It wasn’t anything like their past sex when they were teenagers, which now seemed like angry catfights in hindsight. It made his eyes wet and his throat tight, made him feel like the strongest man on earth and the weakest one at the same time. They said love made you strong, but that was a lie. Love only made you vulnerable, until it could destroy you in the blink of an eye.

He slid into her effortlessly, and she let out the quietest, gentlest moan that made his heart melt. He stayed still for a moment, watching her shudder and writhe and beg and moan, trying to get him moving. She was so sweet, vulnerable and helpless now, so desperate for him, and it only made him want to cry.

He started to move, gently at first, gradually speeding up, until his hips were hitting hers with powerful rhythms, her cunt warm and tightly clenched around him, his cock hard, red and slick sliding in and out of her, her moans in time to his steady pace, the heavenly pleasure like electric current coursing through their connected bodies. Her eyes cracked open, those supplicating blue eyes shimmering with tears, and she whispered, in an almost sobbing tone.

“I love you.”

He leaned down and kissed her, her lips warm and soft, like a dream come true, like the home he’d never come back to. He deepened the kiss, his tongue intertwined with hers, the wet, warm sensation of it sending another wave of heat to their hips, making both of them quiver and moan in unison.

“So you need me, don’t you? How does it feel to stop denying it?”

The expression on her face was all the answer he was looking for. She opened her arms to embrace him, holding him still, and started to move her hips at her own pace, moaning loudly in pleasure, clearly having found an angle from which his cock could keep hitting that sweetest spot inside of her body. He waited, patiently, pressing little kisses onto her neck, fingers reaching up to gently squeeze her hardened nipples, those adorable pink little buds so sensible that she quivered all the more, her sounds the sweetest mixture of moans, pants, and whimpers that became louder and louder. The orgasm hit her like a thunderbolt, a rapid succession of high-pitched wails ringing out beside his ears, her cunt twitching and spasming violently around his cock, her legs shaking aimlessly in the air. He kissed her eyes again, the tears wet and hot on his lips, and she had those loveliest eyes that looked deeply into his, as if he was the only thing she had left in this entire world.

“Say it again, Evie, I want to hear you say it again.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you, Jacob, I love you-”

She was riding him now, her naked body the most amazing feast to his eyes, her plump tits bouncing up and down, head thrown back, and those sweet moans of hers made him gasp in mind-numbing arousal.

“God, Evie, look at you…look at how amazing you are. Does it feel good? To have my cock in your cunt again? Tell me you missed it, I know you did.”

His murmurs immediately shattered her last layer of pretense, he could see, as she sobbed and reached down to rub her clit, eyes closed shut, lips parted, her whole body trembling from the double pleasure of taking his cock and touching herself, her voice broken amidst whimpers and moans.

“Yes, Jacob, I missed it, I missed it so much-”

“Tell me you touched yourself thinking of me fucking you like this, tell me you regret deciding to stop it between us.”

“Yes, Jacob, yes, yes, I’m sorry, I need you, I love you, I missed you fucking me like this-”

The second orgasm left her absolutely breathless, as she gasped and moaned and wailed helplessly, face contorted in ecstasy, legs shaking, almost making her collapse on top of him. He sat up, held her in his arms and kissed her sweaty cheeks, a thin layer of sheen on her body, hair messy and wet on her face. She held him back, panting on his shoulders, her heart pounding loudly in her chest in sync with his.

“Please, let me please you, Jacob,” she murmured to his ears, “Use me as you please, I want you to come inside of me, I need it.”

It was all it took to push him over the edge. Before he realized, he was fucking her from behind, his movements angry and rough and quick, as she moaned loudly beneath him, begging for more. He dug his nails deeply in the flesh of her hips until she wailed in pain, the view and the sensation of her moving her hips desperately to accommodate him making him dizzy and drunk on euphoria.

“Evie, you have no idea how much I missed you, how amazing it feels to be inside of you again-”

“I’m sorry, Jacob, I’m sorry-”

No, it wasn’t enough; he wanted her to say it, to say she wouldn’t lie to herself again.

“Tell me you’d never push me away again.”

He stopped his movements as abruptly as that, and she cried out in despair, moving her hips blindly trying to take his cock again. He smacked her hard on the butt-cheeks as she hissed in pain, then took hold of her hips, blocking her movements.

“Evie, promise me not to ever push me away again.”

Her sounds were a low sobbing now, helpless and defenseless. She turned her head around to look at him, eyebrows knitted, tears in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Jacob,” she whispered, her voice on the verge of breaking, “I won’t push you away again. I need you, I love you, and I shouldn’t have denied it. Now I only want you, I want you to fuck me like there’s no tomorrow, I want you to fill my cunt with your cum, I need you, Jacob, I’m yours, I’m always yours.”

He let out a deep howl and pushed his cock into her again, as she sighed and shuddered and clenched tightly around him, her loud moans intermingled with his, accelerating the arrival of his release. He groaned loudly and uncontrollably with the last powerful thrusts, hips jerking, cock twitching inside of her, sending his seeds into the depths of her cunt. She sighed and trembled to his primal satisfaction, like a helpless slave that only he could own. They both stayed still in that position in silence, bodies shaking slightly, as if afraid of breaking the sweet trance that could last for all eternity.

They had both lost count of time when he finally pulled his cock out of her, the white, thick sperm slowly seeping out of her slit. She moaned and shuddered with sweet laziness, as he held her in his arms from behind. He paused for a moment before kissing the back of her neck, and she turned around and flopped onto the floor, taking him into her arms and kissed him on the lips.

“I meant it,” she whispered.

“I know.”

He stroked her hair, smiling, pressing a gentle kiss onto her forehead.

 “So now you have found your answer.”

“Of?”

“Why. Why it was you. Because I love you and want you.”

He should never have doubted it.

“And I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah! They fucked  
> And pardon me for my wonky vocabulary and shoddy grammar, I suck at action scenes  
> As an aromatic this is too sentimental for my taste, but it doesn’t hurt to try something new, I guess


	14. Stain [1]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally written in English.

The wheels screeched to a halt along the dim platform, and the doors all opened simultaneously, the cold, mechanical feeling to it almost alienating. Faceless strangers swarmed in and out of the metro wagon, each one in their own transparent yet impenetrable bubble. Evie turned up the volume, in an attempt to drown out the surrounding noises in the melody of an old piano piece whose name she had already forgotten. Oddly enough though, she thought. She was calm.

She took out the phone, clicked open the last conversation in the chat app and reread the messages. Henry had changed his profile photo, she noticed for the first time. Back in her apartment when she woke up this morning, she hadn’t. He was smiling, as he always was, holding up a beautiful vase from an antique shop that he so fascinated with. She didn’t know who took that photo.

“Sorry if it comes off as a bit abrupt, but I need to talk to you in person.”

“Sure, how about today after work? What’s it about if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’d really rather talk in person. Sorry.”

“No problem at all. Half-past seven my place?”

Ah, yes, his place. Evie looked up at the line map on the wall, the twinkling red and green lights playful and oblivious. She had to get off the metro at this stop.

So she did.

 

**

 

“You look absolutely gorgeous. Or glamorous. I know you’ve got a thing for a more refined vocabulary.”

“Glamorous isn’t a properly refined word. And you look trashy.”

“Thank you very much, my sweet sister.”

Jacob winked at her, smiling. He wasn’t looking at his menu, his finger tapping lightly yet insistently on the thick paper page, like a child who couldn’t keep quiet or still that he once was. Distracting, she thought. Her eyes skimmed quickly through the menu, almost in a haste. When she put down the menu, she found him still staring at her, the typical playfulness shimmering in his eyes under the soft light.

“What are you looking at?”

“Told you. You’re gorgeous today.”

She heaved a heavy sigh.

“Jacob, it’s not funny.”

“I’m not kidding.”

“What can I get for you?” The smiling waiter stood beside their table, a red rose clapped to his chest pocket. That is very strange, Evie thought. Are they now wearing roses for Christmas too?

“Martini, dry, please.”

“And vermouth for me, thank you.”

“Thank you very much,”

The waiter bowed his head slightly before leaving, delightful. Evie looked at her brother across the table, who seemed to be pensive right now. The corner they were sitting in was warm and snug, near the fire, the wavering red light attaching a vague sense of melancholy to the air. A low-hanging cloud of gentle murmurs floated over the packed bar.

“So…when was the last time we saw each other?”

“September?”

“Nah,” Jacob shook his head, “I’m pretty sure it was before that. God, the heat. And your top, the sleeveless one with a velvety touch to it. You looked just - ”

“Jacob!”

“Right I’m sorry. I bet other siblings don’t turn every reuniting occasion into something to fantasize about.”

“Yes you’re right, they don’t.” He had put the menu away, she noticed, yet not relieved. She found it hard to meet his eyes, if not impossible. 

“So how’s your life?” Jacob asked casually, glancing up at her.

“Good,” she said, trying to fix her eyes on the tablecloth instead. Linen, white and clean, with a shade of ivory to it. Lovely colour, she thought, and then thought it might be hard to wash and clean.

“And that’s it? Come on, make an effort, Evie. I can’t believe I’m the one playing ‘the little brother that tries to hold his family together’ role.”

“Right, I’m sorry.” Evie finally took her eyes off the tablecloth, looking up and meeting his eyes. Hazel and green, only the smallest hint of teasing, the firelight dancing in them like a river of stars she could drown herself in. It was mesmerizing and dangerous, just like her instinct had warned her about. She was right in not looking at him.

“It’s just…you know, kind of monotonous, actually. Laboratory, home, coffee shop to write the papers in. Occasionally going out for a drink with co-workers.”

“Sounds about right. Just Evie being Evie.”

“Yes, that’s what I’m trying to do, I guess.” To be normal. She thought she had managed to turn the page if it weren’t for the memories. Those damned memories, of her brother’s finger fondling her breasts, of his panting beside her ears, of their limbs entwined reflected in her bedroom mirror, of him inside her, hot and hard and glistening with her wetness. “And,” she hesitated, but finally managed, “I’m seeing someone.” Her eyes broke contact with his at the last moment. She just couldn’t do it.

The air froze at an instant, as if the world had been muted. Evie thought it was because her heart skipped a beat, and the world just died around her for that split second. But then the sound and light and warmth all flew back as she blinked and looked back at him. His face didn’t change, but there’s something different in his eyes now. She shivered.

The waiter arrived with their drinks, silent, as if having sensed the air between them. He left without saying a word.

“I’m glad for you, you know.”

Jacob took his glass of martini and blinked at her, smiling. She felt as if there was an electric line of deadly voltage lying between them, and neither of them could ever approach it, cross it, and reach out to touch each other’s fingertip. And God forbid if she denied that she had never stopped to want it. But it was my decision, she told herself, over and over again, like a mantra.

“So how about you?”

“Well, you know, the usual stuff. Basically just keeping an eye on people, make sure they do their job. So god damn hard.”

“Right, I can imagine.”

Silence. Jacob swirled the stem of his glass around his fingers, his smile almost lazy. Evie sipped her vermouth, the cloy sweetness tinged with bitterness astringent and aggressive down her throat.

“And this new beau of yours-”

“Co-worker at the lab. He’s nice.”

“Hmm. How long have you been together? Come on, just a bit gossip.” He raised his glass a bit, as innocent as one could get.

“Since October.”

“Father would have been glad too.”

“I’m sorry?”

A chill crept down her spine as she recognized that look in his eyes.

“Father would have been glad that you’ve moved on. That you told your brother that you shouldn’t sleep together anymore and that you should see each other as little as possible.”

“What do you mean?”

Her fingers clenched tightly around her glass, and she felt the cold starting to well up inside her. His eyes were staring into hers, words spat out fast, the undertone of it deep and dark.

“I’m just saying it’s a pity that he never knew about us. Otherwise, he’d be glad for you now.”

“Jacob,” she put her glass down, straining every nerve within her to keep her voice calm. “we talked about this.”

“Got’ya.” Jacob suddenly flashed a big snicker, but she wasn’t sure if it was genuine. “Just kidding. Congrats, that’s all I wanted to say. He must be over the moon, to have my beautiful sister as his girlfriend. You might as well give me his contact so that I could tell him some little tricks that work wonders on you. Such as you like to be fucked from behind while you play with your lovely nipples and I touch your clit, and you'd become so wet when you are on your knees, sucking my cock and fucking yourself with your fingers, and you’d moan and beg me to fuck you harder when you’ve just come.”

“Jacob-“

“And that your favorite part is to be reminded how desperate you're for your brother’s cock while being fucked. It always gets you off instantly.”

Splash!

It took Evie what seemed like an eternity to realize she was breathing too sharp and quick and it was dangerous. That her head hurt and heart pounded loudly in her chest, her face burning from something between throbbing rage and shame and lust that were like a knife cutting through her. She looked down and found herself standing, shaking all over, her hand trembling, the one last drip of vermouth falling from the empty glass onto the floor. Silence settled in as people turned their head around to look at them, and Jacob laughed, vermouth dripping down his drenched hair and face and chest, as if he had just heard the best joke in the world.

“Sorry, people,” he said, gesturing to the silent crowd around them, a huge, gleeful smile on his face, “Just a bit of a family drama.”


	15. Stain [2]

“Thanks for coming.”

“Thanks for,” Evie gestured awkwardly at the door, “receiving me.”

Henry smiled, reached out and pulled her into a tight hug. “Come in.”

His apartment was cramped but tidy and clean. It was already dark outside, and he had only turned on the desk lamp, which cast a gentle glow across the tiny space. Evie walked slowly past the entrance, standing beside the couch, looking up at Henry. He met her eyes with a smile. He was wearing a plain cotton t-shirt and pajama trousers, hair tussled, but chin shaved clean, his computer screen on the desk behind him displaying strings of codes in a plethora of colors against the black background. He stayed up a lot these days, too, working on a large project.

“Want something to drink?”

“No,” she said, realizing that her tone was too sharp. She tried again. “Sorry, thank you, but no.”

“Something wrong?”

She looked at him, as if startled. The concern on his face was real, and it only made her heart twist in pain. She did feel sorry for him, but she did more so for herself. You're bound to hurt people and be hurt, she thought, because that’s what people do.

Yes, everything was wrong. But that was all she had.

“I’m sorry…” The slight tremor in her voice was betraying her, she knew. He stared at her, the expression on his face grave and concerned. But she had to get through it. It was her decision.

She had to.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think we can continue this relationship anymore.”

 

**

 

Her head was throbbing, her breath short and fast and feverish in her nostril. The world was a blurred patch of colors and noises, all sorts of sensorial stimuli attacking her viciously from all sides, and at the center of it was Jacob’s face, his smile flippant and defiant. He was looking at her right now, as if waiting for something, Evie realized. Say something hurtful, he seemed to urge her, say something, anything, something so terrible and irrevocable that there’s no turning back anymore, only to prove to me that I’ve got to you. A shower of vermouth was nothing compared to actual spiteful words. From you.

She would not give him that.

A waiter scurried past her with napkins in his hands, and Jacob took them from him with a nod and a good-humored “thank you”, starting to wiping himself dry with them. People gradually started to turn their head back to their own conversations, their voice low and gentle, as if nothing had happened.

Of course, nothing had happened. Just a random family drama in public that no one would care.

Evie put the glass back on the table and grabbed her coat and bag hanging over the chair back, heading towards the counter without so much as a backward glance. The waiter scuttled past her quickly and disappeared into the kitchen. They've got something to gossip about now, she thought. All the drama laid out bare to entertain the bystanders, and only the pain and hurt truly belonged to her, for her to savor alone in the dark.

“The bill for the table in that corner, please.” She leaned on the counter and turned halfway to point at the table which she was at to the waitress behind the counter, only to find Jacob sauntering across the hall towards her, an almost self-complacent expression on his face. She didn’t hate him, Evie realized. She was angry, even furious, as proved by her trembling body and the screaming heat in her head, by the overwhelming urge to _hurt_ him, but she was above this now. She had made her decision.

“Eighteen pounds please,” the waitress put the bill down onto the counter, and smiled a customary smile at Evie. She smiled back, forcing herself to calm down. Evie Frye, you got this.

“Credit card?”

“Sure, here.”

“I didn’t know it’s your treat today, sweet sister.”

Jacob sidled up beside her, a finger tapping casually on the surface of the counter. Evie gave the terminal back to the waitress, without glancing up at him. She didn’t know whether it was out of rage or a desperate attempt to keep herself away from the effect he had on her. She just wanted to leave now, so that she wouldn’t have to face him and herself.

“Sorry my dear, but it seems…it’s not working?”

“Excuse me?”

The waitress was fumbling with the terminal, clearly embarrassed, and lifted it up for her to see.

“It says payment failed. Do you mind trying again? I’m really sorry about that.”

 “Sure, no problem at all.”

“Oh, a bit of a month-end crisis, isn’t it?”

“Jacob, I’d really appreciate it if you could just get the hell out of here and leave me the fuck alone.” She said, counting silently from one to ten and then backward. You are above this. You’ve got this.

“And this lovely lady won’t get paid if you keep on pretending you’ve got money in your bank account, with all due respect.” Jacob was clearly relishing in her exasperation, as if this was just another round of usual sibling bickering.

Evie tried her best to ignore him. She typed out the code swiftly and handed the terminal back to the waitress. She took it, waited patiently for a few seconds, then sighed.

“I’m so, so sorry,” she raised her big, innocent eyes to look at Evie, looking genuinely sorry for her. “It doesn’t work. You might want to check with your bank?”

“Hey love, take this,” Jacob fished inside his pocket and produced a crumpled note of twenty pounds, handing it over to her, beaming, “keep the change, my dear. Just really sorry for the mess at the table. My sister’s had a-”

Evie turned around to look at Jacob. He was still smiling, rambling on and on, and the familiar scar on his left eyebrow, the angle of his nose bridge and the texture of his skin suddenly aroused an overwhelming wave of emotions in her that made her only want to cry. She fought awkwardly, desperately and aimlessly against it, trying in vain to put her fingers on it, and it took all her strength not to collapse right there in front of him. And then it all dawned on her.

It was guilt.

She grabbed his wrist and he jerked, turning his head around to look at her, studying her face with a lazy grin, as if what he said at the table was only a light-hearted joke. His eyes were twinkling and looked deeply into hers, an endless ocean she could dissolve into. She wanted to hurt him, she heard herself say. I want to hurt him. I want to hurt him in the same way he hurt me. I want to hurt him in the same way I hurt myself. But I can't do this to him because it only makes thing worse. Because I love him.

“You’re coming with me now,” she said, trying to keep the edge of despair out of her voice. “I’ll pay you back. And then you can get the fuck out of my sight.”


	16. Stain [3]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has anyone noticed I'm just like, I don't feel like writing in 8 months and suddenly I wrote 5000 words in a row and Jeeeez I'm so productive and can't help myself I must have been born a writer

His eyes widened and face was in shock. Henry opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

“I’m sorry.”

Evie repeated, her heart pounding loudly in her chest. It had taken all her courage to come here to face him in person, and she knew from the moment when she made her decision on, she could never shake this stain off her for the rest of her life. She forced herself to look directly into his eyes. Look at the people you hurt because of _your_ decisions, Evie Frye. Look at your own stain.

“No, you don’t…I mean…”

Henry sat down on the couch, totally at a loss, as if he had been thrown into a world he knew nothing about. He looked up at her, as though supplicating.

“But why? What have I done wrong?” He asked, voice helpless and urgent, and it only made her guilt pressing down harder on her.

“Nothing, Henry, listen…You’ve done nothing wrong. I’ve done something wrong. I wasn’t being honest with myself.”

“What do you mean?”

Evie fell into silence for a few moments before she spoke, forcing her again to look at him. “I'm in love with another man and I’ve been refusing to admit it. I made the wrong choices and I hurt people. I hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“In love, you always hurt and get hurt, Evie, I know that.” Henry rose to his feet and approached her slowly, as she felt her tears welling in her eyes and his gentle hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry for myself, and sad because I thought we could be happy together, yes, but I’m sorry for you too. Because you weren’t happy. You can’t be happy if you don’t stay true to yourself.”

She stared at him, and something inside of her snapped and she just dissolved into tears at that instant. He held her in his arms, patting her back gently, murmuring words into her ears that she could no longer make out. She only wanted to cry.

 

**

 

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

Jacob made an effort to catch up with his sister, who was furiously marching on, her shoe heels hitting audibly the pavement. The city night was filled with sounds and sparkling lights, the joyous chorus of the holiday season lighting up the atmosphere, taking off the edge of the chilling cold that permeated the air.

“It’s just ten quid,” he had to raise his voice to keep it from getting drowned out in the horns of cars and buses, “you can pay the bills the next time we meet up.”

Evie stopped so abruptly that he almost bumped into her. She turned around and looked up at his eyes, her voice cold and clear. “It’s five minutes’ walk. I’ll pay you back.” Before he could reply, she turned on her heels and went on. He had to follow along.

“Why? Cause there’s no next time?”

She didn’t reply and he didn’t like this at all.

They stopped at the building of her apartment in a quiet street and she beckoned to him to wait at the front door, then disappeared up the stairs.

Alone in the solitary glow of the street light and the pressing chill, Jacob raised his head to watch the night sky. He had overstepped, there was no doubt of that, and he realized with panic and horror that he hadn’t meant to upset her. The words poured out before he realized or could do anything about it, vile and malicious and despicable, as much a shock to her as they were to himself, and the hurt and anger on her face only made his heart twist. He felt like a helpless accused in front of a silent, cold jury, all evidence lined up against him, and he didn’t even have so much as a chance to confess his true motivations. What were they anyway? Why would he do this to her and to himself?

Simmering with confusion and regret, he found himself not relieved to see her come down again five minutes later, a note of ten pounds in her hand. All he could do was to put on his customary snicker and fall back into the role he so much hated himself.

“Well, that’s sweet. I bet the bankers and their chums would all run about crying all over the place if everyone was like you.”

“Why?”

“Cause they’d get no debts to collect?”

“I swear to God, Jacob. I’m not in the mood for this. Why?”

Jacob finally met her eyes. She looked tired, he thought, as if exhausted from fighting something over and over again, and even so she was astoundingly beautiful. He had missed her, he realized with a pang in the heart, and the familiar wave of hurt and affection and anger all came rushing back. They were mad at each other, he thought bitterly, and had both lashed out on each other, in their own ways, and they both knew it. But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t _hurt_ and wasn’t _sorry_. He wondered if she would understand.

“Because I’m an asshole.”

Silence. Evie sighed and pinched her nose bridge, slowly and wearily, as if she had no strength and patience for their little game anymore. There was a faint sparkle of hope in his heart, but he was too fearful to wish it would keep burning.

“If you want to blame me, do it now.”

“I don’t want to blame you,” Jacob said, stubbornly and irritatedly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He felt like a child again, competing for grown-ups’ attention with his sister.

“Then why? Why did you – why did you say those things?” Her voice was raising. She has had enough, he thought. And so do I.

“Because I think everything is my fault.”

Evie stared up at him, her blue eyes big and wide and limpid under the street light, her skin and lips so soft and glossy that he found it hard to resist the temptation to kiss her right now. A rush of affection washed over him, and he shivered in the chilly wind, feeling small and powerless. That’s why, he thought. That’s why you don’t fall in love with people easily. You’re fucked once you’ve fallen for them.

“What-”

“Because if I wasn’t born and our mother didn’t die and Father didn’t leave us, you’d have something wholesome to model yourself on, and could have been like normal people who don’t screw their siblings. Because the things we did were just _wrong._ Because ever since we agreed to stop it, I’ve been angry and hurt and I want you back being the selfish prick that I am. Because I still want you, I want you in the most depraved way, I want you to beg me for more and come for me over and over again and I can’t get you out of my head. All of it because I killed our mother.”

He felt that his strength was stealing away from him as he went on, all the deepest feelings raw and intense and burning, churning and stirring beneath the words, the power of it making him shiver and feel so helpless. She was staring at him with red-rimmed eyes, biting her lower lip so hard that he thought it must hurt. A droplet of tear rolled slowly down her cheek, but she didn’t wipe it away. He wanted to feel it on his lips.

“You’re a fucking asshole, Jacob Frye, do you know that?”

“I know.”

She took a step towards him, and he could vaguely sense the warmth and the woody floral scent emanating from her body. Her hand touched his cheek, and he saw his own reflection in those beautiful, beautiful blue eyes, lost like a little child, waiting for her to take him home.

“How dare you think Mother’s death is your fault? Why did you never tell me?”

Because I’m afraid you’d hate me. Because I can’t think straight when it comes to my family. Because I’m such a fucking mess.

“I don’t know.” He finally managed, breathes short in his throat. “Because it sounds stupid.”

“No.” Evie murmured, “It doesn’t. I’m sorry, Jacob. I’m sorry. It’s not your fucking fault, Jacob Frye. We’re who we are today because of things we had little or no control over, yes, but it shouldn’t make us less acceptive of who we are, no matter how broken and twisted and sick and pervert, because I’m done giving a damn. And we keep on going with what we’ve got. We keep on going with each other.”

She finally touched her forehead to his, the warmth of her skin sending a wave of comfort rippling through him. His hand found her back as she wrapped her arms around his neck, both of them standing there in silence, still like a statue. His heart was racing up with anticipation he couldn’t quite understand, and afraid to admit.

And then he felt it.

Her lips were approaching his, slowly, inch by inch, as if afraid of him rejecting her. Her breath had a tinge of a nameless floral fragrance to it, making his knees weak.

“Evie,” he whispered, voice deep and low. They still had a chance before anything wrong could be done. She carried on nonetheless, as if oblivious to his voice.

“Evie,” he repeated, tone urgent. She was so close now, he could see her eyelashes glistening in the light, and his lips could touch hers if he leaned in only one more inch–

“Shut up, Jacob.” She murmured, her breath on his skin sending a shiver down his spine. “I told you. I should have listened to myself. To what I really wanted. And by the way, you smell of vermouth.”

Their lips touched, and the world around them came to an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually, the author thinks the best solution is that they live in a happy threesome forever


	17. Stain [4]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: incest dirty talk. Like a lot.
> 
> This chapter is utter trash in both the literal sense and the metaphorical one
> 
> My middle school English teacher would be so proud of me if she ever gets to read this. All the "where is the library" and "I'm fine, thank you, and you?" finally paid off. Thank you, Mrs. Zhou. I love you too.
> 
> And yes, it's so fucking hard to write actual smut in your second language, folks. So either you go ahead and read this piece of trash or you try writing a blow job scene in Chinese entirely on your own. I dare you.

Her heels were getting in her way, Evie realized, as she kicked them off blindly and awkwardly the moment the front door of her apartment was closed shut behind them. Her back immediately hit it with a thud under the nearly bestial force of his body, his kisses hot and wet down her neck, the first buttons of her blouse giving way under his careless fingers. She shuddered and sighed and closed her eyes, the throbbing heat from between her legs coursing through her entire body, making her face burn and breathes short, her torso tremble and legs shake, threatening to give out from under her. Jacob was almost wheezing against her neck now, his movements slightly trembling, and she could feel his cock hard and solid like a rock between her thighs, the raw smell of arousal on both sides permeating the air.

It was then when she sensed that his movements froze.

Still gasping, she tried to make out his expression in the dark. He rested one hand on her waist, taking one step backward, panting heavily, but still managed to speak.

“Evie,” he breathed, tone grave, “are you sure we’re going to do this?”

They both knew what he meant. She trembled only in the slightest, but still went forward with what she had already planned on. Stepping forward, she grabbed on his arm and leaned in, their distance so close that she could sense the warmth from his neck. She had already made her decision, and whatever came after that, she had to deal with.

She was going to hell anyway.

“Yes.”

Before he could reply, she withdrew, dropping to her knees and unbuckling his belt in one smooth motion, letting his fully erect cock spring free right in front of her face. Jacob groaned and gasped as she put both of her hands around it and gave it a tentative stroke, and she could feel the heat between her legs growing now to an unbearable point, making it harder and harder for her to swallow the moans in her throat that were desperately trying to get out. She was dripping wet now, she could feel it, and all the more turned on for it.

“Do you remember what you said at the bar? That I’d become so wet when sucking your cock while playing with myself?”

A deep, sharp gasp from between his clenched teeth was all the answer she needed. She went on while stroking slowly and torturingly his cock.

“Jacob,” she said, looking up at him and meeting his eyes, the lust in them dark and devouring, enjoying the way her motion made him tense and tremble. Her voice sounded hoarse and husky and alien to herself, dripping with desire, “I want to suck your cock so much, I want to feel it hard and hot and salty in my mouth with your precum, and the thought of it makes me so wet that I can’t help but touch myself. Tell me I can do it. Please Jacob, I want you-”

She couldn’t finish her sentence. He grabbed her hair roughly and thrust his cock into her mouth, the force of it making her almost gag. It felt so big and hard in her mouth that she was struggling to keep her mouth wide open enough, as he took on a steady rhythm, thrusting it in and out of her willing, wanton mouth without letting go of her hair, panting and growling from the heavenly pleasure of it.

“I almost thought you’d changed after all, sweet sister. Now it seems you’re still the little whore so desperate for my cock, aren’t you? Why don’t you start fucking yourself with your fingers while I use your pretty little mouth? I really missed seeing you getting off like this with your mouth around my cock, Evie.”

She whimpered and gasped in between his merciless thrusts, finally reaching one hand down into her tights and panties to find her already drenched slit, and slipped three fingers inside of it, the utter relief of something _filling_ that void that had been screaming for attention since already too long ago making her eyes roll back into the head. She started to push her fingers in and out of her cunt desperately as the wave of wild pleasure washed over her, while trying to keep up with the ruthless pace of his cock in and out of her mouth, the tension building up inside her, the sounds escaping from the corner of her mouth a helpless mess of moan and whimper and panting and begging. Clearly enjoying the view beneath him, Jacob let out a low, deep chuckle, his hand tightening up in her hair, guiding the movements of her head, not slowing down in the slightest.

“How does it feel to have your brother’s cock in your mouth again? Do you want it in your tight little cunt?”

And it was more than enough to push her over the edge. The orgasm hit her like a thunderbolt, her whole body twitching and quivering and convulsing as her mind went completely blank, her toes curled up, moans loud and wild with his cock still inside of her mouth, juices dripping past her fingers still buried deep in her cunt and down onto the fabric of her panties and tights. Panting heavily above her, Jacob pulled his cock out of her mouth, causing her to gasp for air uncontrollably.

“Oh God, Jacob…”

Her legs were too weak for her to stand up. She looked up at him and he pulled her up by the armpits, and without a word, they started to take off each other’s clothes in a dazed frenzy, almost as if they were wrestling. Before she realized, she was already sitting on the kitchen table, her nipples hard out in the cold, legs slightly spread, fingers massaging her swollen clit, moaning and writhing with abandon. She knew it would drive him crazy to see her like this.

“Jacob, please,” she moaned, her fingers moving relentlessly around her fully aroused clit, the pleasure rippling through her like an electric current, “I want your cock inside of me, I’m so close now. Do you want to feel me come on your cock?”

“Jesus, Evie,” he gasped, his chest heaving heavily up and down, one hand stroking his hard cock covered in her glistening saliva, so primally tempting to her desperate eyes. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you? Such a whore, so desperate for cock. Are you like this for every man you screw, or are you such a slut only for your brother’s cock?”

“Only for you, Jacob, I’m a slut only for you-”

He stepped forward, and in the next instant, he pushed into her, the glorious feeling of finally being filled by his cock making her cry out in pure ecstasy. His thrusts were hard and deep and fast and it only made her give in completely to the pleasure of it, and they moaned in unison, heads thrown back, the air filled with the dirty sounds of their hips thudding together and his cock sliding in and out of her dripping wet cunt. She was so close now, with him hitting that sweet, sweet spot inside her, with her fingers moving fast desperately on her clit, with him lowering his head down to suck on her hard nipples-

She howled and it must sound like a wounded animal, with the second orgasm cracking mercilessly through her. He must have felt her cunt twitching around his cock in a mad, spasmodic succession, as he groaned through clenched teeth and bit on the tender flesh of her shoulder, without slowing down his movements.

“Oh God, Evie-” he breathed, “You fit perfectly around my cock, don’t you? Look at yourself, look at how you beg me, how soaking wet you are, how your cunt twitches around my cock when you come for me. Can you get off like this on your own?”

“No, no, no Jacob, no,” she cried out, voice husky and desperate, “only your cock can make me come like this, I need you, I want more, please, fuck me just like this-”

“Fuck, Evie-oh God-” he moaned, his movements rough and hard out of pure, unbridled primal instinct, each thrust less controlled than the last one, “It’s so fucking hard not to come and spend all inside of you when your cunt is clenching tight around my cock like this, Evie," he lowered his head to look at where their bodies joined, a scene that made her shiver, "Oh God, your cunt feels so fucking amazing-”

His slapped her cheek with a crackling sound that made her yelp, reaching one hand out to squeeze and fondle her tits that were shivering and trembling in time to his thrusts. She dissolved into a whimpering, moaning mess under him, time and space and the entire world a meaningless blank to her frenzied mind, feeling the third orgasm building up inside her, and it was only right before it hit her that she cried out urgently and desperately to him.

“Jacob, come inside me _now_ , I’m going to-”

The last few powerful thrusts sent her right over the edge and she came, his cock swelling and pulsating inside of her, sending his thick white sperm deep into her cunt, as she screamed and thrashed, crying in utter and pure ecstasy, in sync to his bawling, loud and wild like an animal. Their skin was soaked in sweat, limbs tightly entwined as if to form an eternal one, panting sharp and harsh, interwoven and echoing in the silent air, and he kissed her on the lips so deep and hard that she thought she’d run out of oxygen. They were trembling and quivering all over, whether from the remaining waves of the orgasm or exhaustion or dream-like reverie, she couldn’t tell. She leaned her head slowly on his shoulder, her legs tightening around his waist. He quivered, as if still couldn’t believe what had just happened.

“Stay here tonight,” she murmured, her mind blank.


	18. Stain [5]

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Jacob raised his head from beside the kitchen table he was sitting at, and saw her silhouette cut neatly against the cold light in the hallway behind, the darkness of the room threatening to engulf her frame and the intruding world of lucid consciousness sneaking behind her. He couldn’t make out her face. He had stayed in her apartment all day, after Evie had left in the painfully clear morning light, through bland noon and empty afternoon, until night descended upon the city and her key turned in the door lock. She had got up in an evasive, hurried silence, averting her eyes whenever she had to enter the room to pick up her clothes and belongings to get ready for the day. She didn’t kiss him before leaving.

“I thought…”

“That I’d had left?”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s ok.”

“I just thought you’d had left for work.”

“I took the day off.”

Silence. Evie took a step forward, closed the door behind her, and flipped on the switch. The room was immediately immersed in a gentle glow, and he saw her, face pale and subdued, plaits slightly loose and askew, eyes puffy, looking aside, lips slightly apart. His shivered at the sight, not knowing exactly why.

“I can leave now.”

“No, it’s not-”

“Evie.”

He had spent the day lying on her bed, eyes closed, submerged in her scent and memories and everything that reminded him achingly of what the event the night before meant for the both of them. Everything that happened in that frenzied, hazed night replayed before his eyes over and over again during the day, the senses only sharpened through the lens of memory, making his heart race in his chest and lingering desire course through his veins, teasing him, torturing him, cursing him, despite the pitiful wreckage of a rational mind screaming desperately in the back of his head, trying to regain control. All he could see, through a densely woven veil of conflicting thoughts and feelings and raging desire, was a boundless void.

He didn’t know how to feel, and it made him want to laugh.

“Tell me what you want. If you need some space, I’ll leave now.”

She finally met his gaze, but there’s something firm and resolute in those weary eyes. He knew immediately that she was determined not to cry, the pride beneath it crystal clear.

“I went to Henry’s.” She lifted her chin slightly, steering the conversation in another direction.

“And?” His throat suddenly tightened.

“I told him I can’t continue this relationship with him anymore.”

He shook his head, incredulous.

“Are you-”

“Oh of course I am, Jacob,” she snapped and took another step forward, hands clenched into fists, trembling slightly beside either side of her body. “I bloody am sure.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Silence. When Jacob spoke again after what seemed like eternity, his voice was cracked and hoarse, almost unrecognizable to himself.

“Are you ok?”

He knew it was stupid and futile and arrogant and hypocrite, but he had to ask. They weren’t anything more than two human beings facing each other, hurt and boldened, firm and weak, proud and fearful all at once, and all they’d got in the whole world was each other.

Evie bit her lower lip, her eyes locking tightly with his, deep and dark and unfathomable.

“No.”

“Evie-”

“I’m not ok, because I betrayed someone’s trust, someone I respect and hold dear as a person, and it was me who made that choice, and I know I should feel remorseful and ashamed of myself but I don’t, because I love you and I _chose_ you and I want only _you_ , and I’m so terrified thinking that you’d despise me for it that I can’t even think straight. Does it sound ok to you?”

His movement was faster than both of them had anticipated, and in the blink of an eye he had risen to his feet and stridden across the floor and she was already in his arms, tense and shivering, like a trapped bird. He inhaled deeply and took in the familiar, warm scent of her hair, and listened to her short, sharp breathes and pounding heartbeat, so near his own, as if they had never been separated in this life.

“Stop it.” He murmured to her ear, “You’re never perfect, and will never be. And I love you for it.”

She sighed deeply in his embrace, her arms tightening on his back, the warmth of her body the only reassurance in this big, lonely world. They were selfish, he knew, a creeping, chilling knowledge that despite their choice, they would be living with this stain of betrayal forever until they dying days. And now, in the abyss of loneliness and isolation, of secrecy and guilt, there was nothing more frightening and intimate than their bond together, deeper and stronger than ever.

It was them against the world.

 

[end]


	19. Cocktail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Henry, Jacob and Evie threesome, because WHY NOT. Don't proceed if it's not your cup of tea.
> 
> Originally written in English.

The doorbell rang. Wobbly, Evie tried to stand up, but fell onto the couch almost immediately, her head spinning. Jacob beside her burst out laughing, and Henry patted gently on her shoulder, rising to his feet.

“It must be the pizza.” He announced, delighted, and soon disappeared down the hallway. He seemed to be the least drunk one among the three tonight, but even so, he was barely walking straight.

“Careful Evie,” Jacob mumbled, slurping down his screwdriver. The table before them was strewn with half-empty bottles used for making their various experimental cocktails, beer cans scattered all around the floor, the noise from the TV intermingled with the thudding beats of music from Jacob’s phone lying God knew where. “or you’ll break your beautiful little teeth.”

She had the reason to be here, Evie Frye always had a reason for everything. The exams were brutal, the competition ruthless, she had spent countless sleep-deprived night studying and stressing out, despite various attempts of sulky Jacob and understanding Henry of getting her hang out with them for at least a little break, and – she got it, as always, top of the class. The summer holidays laid idly and leisurely before her, three months of reading for pleasure, sunshine and–

“Parties!”

Jacob stuffed another cup of unorthodox Sex On The Beach into her unsteady hands, beaming, his words nothing more than a jumble of syllabuses. “You need it, Evie, drink, drink, drink!”

And God she must have used up all her quota for strong suits for exam-taking, leaving nothing for everything else, especially alcohol tolerance. And it didn’t seem like a bad thing, yet.

Henry reappeared in the living room, a huge pizza box in his hand. “Anyone wants it?”

“Thanks, but I don’t think I can eat anything, I’ll probably-” Evie managed, taking another sip of searing alcohol down her throat.

“Throw up?”

Jacob guffawed, but she was sure he was at least as hammered as she was. Henry put the box down on the table before them, carefully avoiding the teetering empty wine bottles, took a piece of pizza and slumped back onto the couch, crunching the food idly.

“Oh come here, sweet sister,” Jacob made his voice all shaky and high-pitched, the laughter brimming behind it, throwing an arm across Evie’s shoulders and pulling her close to him, “I’ll take care of you. Look at you, so cute when you’re so wasted like this.” He suddenly leaned in closer, his lips almost touching her cheek, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down her skin, “Why don’t you party with us more?”

“I’m not-” she struggled to keep her mind functional and her words at least meaningful, but then all she could feel was his body, so close and warm and the muscles underneath a thin layer of fabric so strong and solid, and she suddenly remembered it had been a long time since she had sex. The last time she had sex, it was a dull and embarrassing affair, something so awkward and random with someone she wasn’t at ease with that she didn’t even want to recall it, unlike all the ones she’d had with–

“Do you want some water?” Henry proposed, his voice concerned. She couldn’t see him, lying there limply against Jacob’s chest, like a stranded fish. Her body was burning, she could feel it, and her breathes became feverish as memories resurfaced after a long, long period of self-censorship and loneliness, the culprit of it all chuckling darkly right now beside her ears.

“I’m fine, it’s OK, I’ll just stay here a bit…”

“Yes Evie, stay here in your little brother’s arms as you’ve always liked, remember?” Jacob’s voice was thick with teasing and suggestion, and she felt a familiar heat rising from between her thighs, despite the presence of their mutual friend, who seemed to be keeping a strange, yet soothing silence beside them. Having clearly taken in the colours high on her cheeks and the tension of her body, Jacob chuckled, his arm tightening on her back.

“You don’t usually see her like this, you know?” Jacob suddenly spoke, and it took Evie longer than she would have liked to realize that he was talking to Henry. She couldn’t see Henry’s face, only instinctively clinging to Jacob’s body, like a moth attracted by fire, his voice indistinct and blurred to her ears as if underwater, her mind a meaningless blank. Only the heat was real, so real that it almost ached, and the animal inside her was screaming for quelling it through whatever the means available.

“Evie is more of a cautious type,” Henry said.

Jacob guffawed again, his body trembling.

“Oh fuck that shit,” he said, “she hasn’t told you yet? You don’t really know her. Come on, Evie,” he lowered his head to speak gently to her ear, “tell him how good you’re at deceiving.”

“Jacob, shut up-”

“Oh for God’s sake,” Jacob said, gesturing in mid-air randomly, and Evie couldn’t tell whether he was more annoyed or aroused, “I’ve been fucking her since we were fifteen, such a slut she is, begging you for cock, man.”

Evie realized, with unreal clarity, that they were totally, absolutely hammered, all three of them, and that she didn’t even give a shit whatever Jacob was talking about. If anything, it only made her more turned on. She only wanted him inside her. She only wanted _someone_ inside her, _now_. She shifted uncomfortably in Jacob’s arms, trying to cling tighter to him, and struggled to fight back the more and more irresistible temptation of touching herself right there in front of them, for the sake of nothing more than a remnant of her civilized persona.

“Wow.” Henry breathed quietly, but didn’t sound shocked or disgusted to her ears. “But-”

“You don’t believe me?” Jacob mumbled, “let her tell you-”

“Shut the fuck up, Jacob,” Evie said, leaned in and kissed him on the mouth, her tongue slipping eagerly into his mouth. She wanted to touch herself.

Jacob’s arm tightened on her body, and within seconds she was already straddling him on the lap, his shaft hot and hard pressing tightly against her thighs. They made out messily with abandon, mingled saliva slipping down her chin, their tongues twisted and entwined like two mating snakes, his hands grabbing her butt so tightly that it almost hurt.

“Sweet, sweet sister,” Jacob murmured beside her ear, but she knew he made sure Henry could hear him too, “show us how desperate you are.”

Panting, she reached one hand down into her panties to rub her clit, the electric jolt of pleasure shooting up in her veins like heroin. She thrashed and quivered and moaned, and Jacob chuckled, pressing a wet kiss on her cheek.

“Told you,” she heard him say to Henry, but she was already beyond all this. She continued to touch herself, eyes closed, head thrown back, the sound escaping her throat nothing more than a desperate whimper.

“Why don’t you show us your delicious little tits, huh? Let us see how you play with them?” Jacob looked up at her, eyes deep and dark, his tongue licking teasingly along her neck, hands on her waist.

It took her longer than she’d have intended to rid herself of the dress and the bra she was wearing, leaving her only her tights. Her right hand was still relentlessly moving around her clit, but the other hand soon found her own hardened nipples and started pinching and rubbing and teasing, the double pleasure from her breasts and her clit making her moan louder and louder and her slit wetter and wetter, desperate for something to fill that void.

“That’s my good girl, Evie, my dear sister.”

“Jacob-”

“Jacob what?”

“Please,” she begged, the alcohol and lust wiping any remnant of her shame clean, all senses highlighted all the more by the vague awareness that Henry was watching, “please fuck me.”

“Fuck you – how? I don’t think it’s fair for Greenie, right, mate? Come on, I probably could use your pretty little mouth a bit, while Henry can help you with your _request_ , right, Greenie?”

She was thrown from Jacob’s lap onto the couch, and scrambled to pull herself up on all fours, while Jacob drunkenly hoisted himself onto the couch, a lazy smile on his face, unbuckled his belt and pulled his cock free, angry and red and hard right in front of her face, emanating a heat and smell that turned her into an animal.

“Come and take your brother’s cock in your mouth, while our dear friend here can fuck you from behind, what’d you say?”

She couldn’t answer, as her mouth was already stuffed full of his cock, her chin and arms trembling, eyes watering, naked tits hovering in the air, her breath too sharp and short coming in and out of her nostrils. Jacob stripped clean of his shirt, exposing his beautiful, muscled torso, and started to thrust into her mouth rhythmically as she whimpered, her tongue desperately trying to accommodate and pleasure him, licking and sucking on the tip, making him moan and shudder.

“God she’s good at this, you know,” Jacob panted, raising his head up to speak to Henry, “right from the start. Sometimes she’d blow me in the classroom after school – sounds crazy, right? But aren’t you a crazy little whore, huh, Evie?” He slapped on her cheek and made her whimper, her face scarlet from arousal and humiliation and exertion, and Jacob hummed in satisfaction.

“Evie,” She suddenly heard Henry’s voice from behind, gentle and tender, his fingers tracing over her hips, “are you OK with me-”

“Of course Greenie,” Jacob said with irritation, “Just fuck her already, she’s so desperate for cock, I bet she’s wetter than the Mississippi river right now. Aren’t you, Evie?”

Her tights were gently pulled down her thighs, exposing her plump butt and slim, strong legs to the cold air, and Henry’s fingers were already playing with her drenched lips, the sloppy, debauched sounds of it making her knees weak and head dizzy. The next thing she knew was his cock full and strong and glorious inside her, filling and stretching her, hitting the most desperate, sweet spot inside her over and over again, the thrusts slowly picking up a rhyme in time with Jacob’s into her mouth, her moans and panting a broken mess amidst the sloshing sounds of being fucked in the cunt and the mouth. Henry’s nimble fingers gently found their way to her clit, circling, rubbing and massaging that sensible, hardened bud. The tidal wave of pleasure from being fucked and touched and used sparked through her entire body and she stiffened, shuddered, quivered and howled from around Jacob’s cock, her legs spasming violently, the orgasm ripping her into naked, helpless pieces-

“Jesus Christ,” Jacob panted, his chest heaving heavily up and down, “you just made her come, buddy. It’s hot, isn’t it?

“Right,” Henry breathed, his hand patting on her hips, continuing to thrust into her as her convulsion gradually ebbed away, “but I guess it’d be even hotter to-”

“To see me fuck my own sister?” Jacob grinned, “that’s what I’d thought. Come on, make yourself comfortable Greenie, I’ll fuck this whore of a sister like a little bitch from behind, it’s her favourite position, cause she likes to be humiliated. Don’t you, Evie?”

He took his cock out of her mouth, red and rock hard, covered in her saliva and his precum, while Henry carefully pulled his cock out of her as well. Evie coughed and gasped, almost collapsing onto the couch, and Jacob grabbed her hair roughly, spinning her around. Henry caressed her face and laid back down, casually starting to stroke himself, as Jacob pulled up one leg of Evie from behind for better access, and slipped his cock effortlessly into her drenched, fucked cunt. Her eyes immediately rolled back into her head at the pleasure of being filled up to the hilt again, her hips rocking desperately against her brother’s muscled body.

“Henry,” Evie murmured, her face contorted by the pleasure of being fucked by her brother from behind, her eyes unfocused, lips parted, “it felt so good when you made me come. Do you want me to pleasure you?”

“It’s OK, Evie,” their friend smiled, contemplating the debauchery before his eyes and stroking himself, “just enjoy. It’s so great to see you like this, you know? Such a good girl you make yourself out to be, and even fooled me. If I had known you’ve been such a good girl for your brother, I’d already have fucked you more times than he’d have liked.”

“Hey!” Jacob protested, his thrust powerful and rough and careless into his sister’s willing, greedy cunt, unlike Henry’s gentle, thoughtful pleasing movement, “I’m not the jealous type! It turns me on to imagine her screwing different men, being such a whore she is,” He paused and gasped, closing his eyes momentarily before resuming his movement. “Jesus, so tight, makes me want to come all the time. So good you are at this, right, Evie?”

“Yes, please, fuck me, please, Jacob, it feels so good when you fuck me like this-”

She was already beyond all of this, and all the more turned on knowing that in their eyes she was now nothing more than a complete whore whose only purpose of existence was begging to be fucked and enjoying it. Eyes closed shut, her hand reaching down again to rub her clit, hips jerking and rocking to accommodate Jacob’s cock like a bitch in heat, fully aware that Henry before her was taking all this in while pleasuring himself, Evie moaned loudly with abandon, lost in the primal sensual impulse, chasing desperately and mindlessly another release.

“Fuck,” Jacob cursed, his fingers tightening on her soft flesh, “She’s doing this again, Greenie, when her cunt just clenches around you and makes you just want to-”

“Come inside her Jacob,” Henry said, his movements up and down his glistening shaft accelerating, breathes laboured and short, laden with desire, “I’ve always thought there’s something about one twin coming inside the other…”

“Please Jacob, come inside me,” Evie moaned and begged, tits trembling with each thrust, one leg still held firmly high up by Jacob’s hand, making where their bodies joined clearly visible for Henry, her voice broken and desperate, “I want your seed inside me-”

With deep growls, a few short, jerky and powerful thrusts, Jacob came, his cock twitching and sending thick sperm deep inside his sister, and she cried out loud, legs shaking, cunt twitching and spasming around his cock, the overriding power of orgasm shattering every fiber in her being. With a quiet, deep sigh, Henry came on her beautiful naked collarbones and tits, the white semi-liquid slowly dripping down her milk-white skin. Still panting heavily, Jacob slowly pulled his still hard cock out of her, the thick sperm oozing out of her cunt together with his glistening cock, as obscene and satisfactory a scene as he could ever imagine. She whimpered, body still trembling, covered in cum, and flopped onto the couch, moaning quietly.

“What a treat,” Henry said, thoughtfully. Jacob slumped back onto the couch again, and burst out laughing. “I’m hungry,” he announced, jumping up to grab a piece of pizza, unmindful of the fact that they were practically still all naked, and the smell of sex was still thick in the air, “it’s all cold!”

“Shut up Jacob,” Evie said quietly, closing her eyes, and her twin laughed, pressing a kiss on her forehead. It wasn't her fault, she decided - it was all the god-damned cocktails.

“We should definitely party more together,” he said, winking at Henry, who smiled and took another sip from his colourful, heady cocktail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, when I said in the previous story that the best solution for all parties involved is to live in a happy threesome forever, I really meant it.


End file.
